


Deadly Game

by Sealgirl



Category: Ironside (TV 1967)
Genre: Gen, episode-style fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28365297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sealgirl/pseuds/Sealgirl
Summary: Just days before the start of a big trial, Chief Robert Ironside is apparently betrayed when close friend and colleague Sergeant Ed Brown vanishes with vital evidence.





	1. An Unexpected Change of Plan

**Author's Note:**

> A/N - Set between the end of Season 4 (Walls are Waiting) and the beginning of Season 5 (The Priest Killer).
> 
> A/N II - Many, many thanks to both Julie_o and Realmlife for the betaing the original.
> 
> Originally posted at ffnet November 2008.

_**IRONSIDE - DEADLY GAME** _

_Prologue_

_Darkest Before Dawn_

_It was late._

_Or maybe it was early. It made no difference._

_Chief Robert Ironside was sitting in his wheelchair in the attic office at Police Headquarters, an office that was also his home. He gazed out of the window to the dimly lit, misty streets of San Francisco that stretched before him into darkness._

_On the outside, it looked peaceful there tonight, although in the distance was the faint sound of a siren to prove that below the surface it was the same as any other city, threatening, violent and dangerous._

_He had been staring out to the city for hours, watching the lights of the cars as they moved and the steady, neon glow of the streetlights._

_Robert Ironside never slept well, not after the shooting that had taken away the use of his legs. He never needed as much sleep as before, when he had been active and on his feet all day, working. But it had been a long time since he'd been able to get no sleep at all, for the second night in a row._

_The events of the previous two days played through his head again and again, and he was left wishing he'd done things differently. It was foolish; he was not a man given to regret, and the sense of loss was something that Ironside was used to. He'd spent years without the use of his legs, locked in his wheeled prison, forced to rely on his friends to help him. But now he'd lost something else, something he had, in his arrogance, expected to keep forever._

_His own hand-picked team of Mark, Ed and Eve would never be the same again, irrevocably broken by murder, torment, hope and betrayal. And he would have to come to terms with his own part in its destruction. How could it not be his fault? They were his staff; they were his closest friends, his only family and, ultimately, their safety was his responsibility. His decisions had taken them down this path, so he had no one to blame but himself._

_Beside him on the desk, untouched since he'd poured it a few hours ago, sat a large glass of bourbon. Ironside picked it up and swallowed the whole thing in one long gulp, feeling the warming burn of the alcohol against the cold. He 'd won, it was true, but along the way he'd also lost something very precious. Wasn't there something he could have done? Wasn't there some other way for this to have ended?_

_He closed his eyes, thinking back to the very start of this nightmare. How had he let the situation get so out of hand?_

* * *

Chapter 1

An Unexpected Change of Plan

They were late.

Chief Robert Ironside sat and glared at the small mountain of papers on his table, and the half-finished cup of cold coffee that sat nearby. He didn't like it when people were late. Especially not _his_ people. He thought he'd trained them better than that.

Over at the far table, surrounded by files and books, Mark Sanger sat holding the phone to his ear, an anxious look on his face.

'Ed's still not answering the car phone,' Mark said, replacing the handset with a click and a sigh.

Ironside turned a thunderous scowl to his aide, who looked back with a forced neutral expression but was clearly bracing himself for the oncoming tirade. This time, the Chief restrained himself. It wasn't Mark's fault, and though he wanted to let rip, he didn't. He would save it all up for Ed and Eve when they got back from wherever it was that they had gone. Mark, acknowledging the effort, smiled.

'Hey Chief, they can't be far,' he said. 'They know the score.'

Ironside grunted in reply.

'Relax, man!'

Ironside gave Mark a dark look, but the other man just grinned back more widely. It was good to have Mark around as part of his team, and the Chief had never regretted his decision to offer him a job.

Mark Sanger knew how to handle most situations; he was once a small-time hustler who had grown up on the streets and in jail, fighting life and prejudice at his colour. He had finally risen to the challenge and had become Ironside's "legs" after the sniper had crippled him, becoming a vital part of the Chief's life.

And Ironside trusted Mark implicitly; he trusted him in the same way he trusted his other two team members, Officer Eve Whitfield and Sergeant Ed Brown, even if _their_ time keeping today was severely suspect.

Ironside glanced back up at the clock for about the tenth time. Eve and Ed were well over an hour late. They _should_ have been back at the office by now. Even if they had stopped off to collect some lunch, they still should have been back. Ironside and Ed were due over at Commissioner Randall's office within the hour, and he wanted Eve there as well.

Ironside scowled down at the papers in front of him, angry at being kept waiting.

He needed them on hand. And they knew it!

Today, of all days, was not a good day to be late. In less than two days, at nine o'clock sharp, the McDonald case was going to court and everything had to be perfect.

With a low sigh, Ironside lifted one of the papers on his desk, trying to concentrate. _The McDonald case_ … The Chief wasn't going to let McDonald get away, not after finally finding a way in. Charles McDonald was one of the highest profile Syndicate figures they'd managed to catch in years. Cold, calculating, efficient and ruthless, McDonald hadn't made a mistake in over two decades. And then, a few months ago he'd made one tiny slip. Everything began to unravel and Ironside was there to collect all the evidence he needed; drugs, firearms, papers, the works!

The Chief was in a position to make sure he was in the forefront of the case, such was the advantage of being a Special Consultant for the Commissioner. Originally, it had been a Narcotics bust, so Ironside and his assistants had been working closely with Lieutenant Burwell, who'd been pleased to have Ironside's help.

The case was watertight; Ironside had made _absolutely_ sure of it, from witnesses to evidence. And, for all the last-minute jitters that the whole Department was having, Ironside was confident that McDonald would be found guilty. The evidence was overwhelming, once they had found a way in. It would take a miracle to get McDonald off, and Ironside was going to make sure that those were in damn short supply.

For the next five minutes, Ironside flicked through the papers on his desk, rearranging files and trying not to look at the clock. Just when the Chief had almost given up any hope of making his appointment with the Commissioner, there was the sound of the elevator, and Ironside noticed Mark looking nervously towards the door. The Chief himself didn't move, just continued to read the files. He wasn't going to show his two errant staff members how anxious he was.

There were footsteps in the corridor and the door opened. Ironside still didn't look up, instead he let the footsteps come closer, giving off an air of indifference.

The sound stopped and there was a pause. In his mind, Ironside was thinking up some choice phrases to open the conversation, starting with " _where the flamin' Hell have you pair been!_ ".

'Hello, Chief.'

Ironside looked up in surprise. That was not the voice he'd expected. It wasn't Ed or Eve. It was Lieutenant Carl Reese. Carl was a close friend in the force, they had worked together on and off for many years, before Carl had moved to Homicide.

He stared at the other man in surprise for a few moments.

'Hello Carl,' he said. 'I didn't expect to see you today. Nice of you to come by for a visit.'

Reese dropped his gaze to the ground.

'It's… well, it's _not_ a social call, Chief,' he replied after a few moments of strained silence. He was fidgeting with a slender folder that was tucked under one arm, flicking the corner of it was a thumbnail. Ironside frowned. It wasn't like Carl to be so anxious.

'Got something for me from Homicide?' Ironside asked. 'Not that I don't _want_ to help, you understand, but I am a bit busy today.'

Reese shook his head, still fidgeting with the file.

'It's not from Homicide,' he admitted. He didn't say anything else, and Ironside's frown grew deeper. He didn't like these sorts of guessing games, and Carl knew it. But instead of being angry, which was usually his first reaction to anything, a sudden and irrational alarm took hold of him. Whatever was contained in that folder was trouble.

Lieutenant Reese followed the Chief's gaze to the file. Then he took a step towards the desk, but still he didn't hand it over, he stalled just as he was about to. Ironside had never seen the other man so acutely uncomfortable before in all the years they had known each other. He looked as if he had just been thrown to the lions with a half-pound of tenderised steak tied round his neck.

'Well, what _is_ it, Carl? I think you'd just better _tell_ me and get it over with!' Ironside said curtly.

'Chief…'

The man stopped, unable to get the words out, and Ironside's anxiety grew sharper.

'I want it straight and to the point, Carl,' he said in a gruff voice. 'Don't mess me around. What _is_ it?'

'Really, Chief, I don't know how to say this.'

'I had noticed that! The facts, Carl! Start there.'

Lieutenant Reese nodded, and his face became set.

'At 12:15 this afternoon, Sergeant Ed Brown walked into the Property Office with a requisition order for some of the evidence from the McDonald case.'

Ironside's heart sank with inexplicable fear. He knew it was fear, though he wasn't sure why he should have been afraid. But he _did_ know that Sergeant Ed Brown shouldn't have been anywhere near the Property Office, and certainly not for anything to do with the McDonald evidence. He should have been chasing up some leads over the other side of the Bay, with Eve. That's where Ironside had sent them this morning, and that's where he'd said he'd been.

But the Chief stifled all the other clamouring questions, and just asked the one that seemed to matter most.

' _And_ …?' he demanded.

There was an "and" and that was the whole problem, Ironside could read it on Carl's face.

'And at 12:18 he walked out of the office with the ten kilograms of heroin. He hasn't been seen since. He's vanished.'

* * *


	2. The Bearers of Bad News

The Bearers of Bad News

For the first, and perhaps only time in his life, Ironside was genuinely speechless.

It made no sense. It made absolutely _no_ flamin' sense at all!

There was no way he could believe what Carl Reese was telling him. And if it had been anyone else standing there, telling him that his own hand-picked and trusted sergeant had waltzed off with a million dollars worth of heroin, he would have laughed them all the way out of his office. And then all the way out of the building and the city as well.

But Carl was standing there, perfectly serious. No, more than that, he was deadly serious. _He walked out with ten kilograms of heroin. He's vanished._ It had really happened.

Ironside felt a cold chill run through him as all the implications of that simple statement hit home. Apart from being an illegal Grade A drug that was worth a fortune on the streets, and an uncut and deadly poison, that _specific_ batch of heroin was vital evidence in the McDonald case.

And Sergeant Ed Brown had been intimately involved in that case. If there were any hint of impropriety _at all_ , the Council for the Defence would have a field day. McDonald could even walk… And the case started in less than forty-eight hours.

Ironside realised he was staring. Carl stared back, a look of disbelief on his face, as if he could hardly believe his own words. After a few moments, Reese handed over the file with a quiet sigh, as if relieved to be rid of it.

The Chief opened the folder, trying not to show his anxiety. There were only two pieces of paper inside, carefully sealed in plastic covers. One was a correctly completed Property record sheet, with Ed Brown's badge number and distinctive, looping signature at the bottom. The other was the corresponding requisition order. And that appeared to be signed by Ironside _himself_!

Ironside looked at the second sheet very carefully. All the necessary information was there, the box number for the heroin, the evidence number, the case number… but the signature wasn't his. Oh, yes, it was close, _very_ close, but it wasn't his signature.

'I… I take it,' started Reese hesitantly, 'I take it you have no idea what I'm talking about?'

Ironside shook his head.

'That's not my signature,' he said.

Carl nodded.

'I didn't think it would be. That order doesn't have your fingerprints on it. But the signature's a good forgery. Good enough to fool someone who'd not seen it that often, or someone who had no reason to question it.'

Ironside was forced to agree.

'And what about Ed's signature?' he asked, fearing the answer. It had looked genuine to him, and he knew his sergeant's writing well.

'Oh, it's his all right,' Carl replied. 'And his fingerprints are on both papers, Jim in the Lab double-checked, double quick. What's more, Chuck Johnson watched him sign the sheet, right at the front desk of Property. That was Ed Brown. No question.'

So Ed _had_ been there, Officer Johnston had seen him. Johnston might not be much of a cop, but he had to be considered as a reliable witness. Inwardly, Ironside swore. That was one reasonable explanation gone.

'We need to find Ed,' Ironside snapped suddenly. 'Mark…!'

'On it already Chief,' said the other man. Ironside glanced over, and saw that Mark had already picked up the phone and was dialling a number.

'You haven't spoken to him?' asked Carl.

'He and Eve called in about two hours ago. They were on their way back from the Bayside Motel, where they were _trying_ to find Henry Brant.'

'Brant? Why him?'

'I got a call saying he had a tip. I sent them right out.'

'There's still no answer, Chief,' Mark told him, holding his hand over the mouthpiece. 'I'll get the operator to keep trying.'

Ironside nodded.

'And Eve was with him?' asked Reese.

Ironside nodded. Carl looked around the Chief's office, as if noticing for the first time that Eve wasn't there. That simple gesture made Ironside's gut twist. _Eve_ …Where was she? Had she been involved too?

Ironside mentally shook his head at that thought. That was just _impossible_. He knew her, better than she knew herself. Eve couldn't be involved. As much as Ed Brown was his protégé, Eve Whitfield was the very apple of his eye. He was the one who'd encouraged her to join the police force, he was the one who had helped her, and he'd gladly signed the references that had opened so many doors for her.

He'd done everything he could to ensure that she had the chance to realise her potential. That was the very least he could do for her, since any other dimension to their relationship was out of the question. Not that he hadn't considered it, he was certain that Eve had as well. But it wasn't to be. Before the shooting he had held off, unwilling to jeopardise her budding career with something like that. And afterwards it was just… _not possible_. As much as he loved her, he couldn't burden her with his problems and the bleak future they would have together. She had intuitively understood that, and they had both moved on; he knew Eve was seeing someone else. And he knew she was serious about the relationship.

But as for what had happened at Property; well, even if… and it was a monumentally _big_ "if"… Ed Brown really had done what Carl said he'd done, there was no way in cold, frozen Hell that Eve would have been party to it. She despised drugs, having seen at first hand how it ruined lives.

And Eve, of all people, certainly didn't _need_ the money. Her family had enough money to buy whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted it, twice, and it would seem like a small drop in the ocean.

'No one saw Eve?' Ironside asked Carl. The lieutenant shook his head.

'No one mentioned her. And considering the circumstances, I think they would have, Chief.'

Ironside frowned more deeply. She had been with Ed at the Bayside. So where was she now? What was her part in this? And what was going on?

It was impossible to guess without some more information. But Ironside had the acute feeling that this was just the start of something much bigger. It felt like he was looking at a jigsaw puzzle with no picture and only three pieces. There was much more to be learnt, not least an explanation about why it had taken so long to inform him of Ed's disappearance.

Ironside was still for a moment.

Tucked away at the very top of the Police Department, Ironside's quarters were never busy, but it was unnaturally quiet at the moment, with half his team missing. His desk had a large pile of papers on it, and a cup of cold, black coffee. He was due at the Commissioner's Office in a few minutes, and no doubt Dennis would hear about what had happened and demand his presence immediately. Dennis would want answers, and more importantly, he'd want Ironside off the case and away from the whole mess, citing _emotional involvement_ or some other platitude. But Ironside didn't want off this case. These were _his_ people. He had to find them, and help them.

He had to do something. And he had to do something right _now_.

He thought about Ed, and Eve, picturing their faces. Beyond all the worry and confusion and doubt, deep inside his heart where his instinct was at its most keen, he knew that those two young people were in very great danger. He had to help them; beyond their mutual friendship, the safety of his staff was his responsibility.

He had to act.

_Now._

He looked up at Reese.

'Carl, get me an A.P.B. on Ed's car. Then get a warrant and get over to Ed's apartment.'

'His apartment?'

Ironside nodded slowly, his face mirroring Carl's obvious discomfort with the idea of having to search a colleague's house.

'Just you, Carl, and make it count.'

'Ok, Chief,' said Reese, with a nod. 'What else?'

'I want you to get someone over to the Bayside Motel, that's where they called me from. Find out if they were there, and when. Bring me witnesses, anyone who saw them. And get the exchange downstairs to put a tap on this line, on the off chance someone calls.'

The Chief finally turned to his last remaining staff member, who had been patiently waiting in the background. Mark looked back at him, his face showing the same worry that Ironside felt inside.

'What about me?' he asked.

'You can get me over to Property! Right now!'

* * *

'Johnston!' bellowed the Chief.

Chuck Johnston was still busy working at the Property desk, but he was a very far cry from the normal happy-go-lucky man he usually was.

'Oh, Chief. Hello…' For once, Johnston didn't look pleased to see him. But he signalled to one of the other officers to some to take his place, and came straight over to Ironside as he wheeled himself slowly inside, with Mark helping to push the wheelchair up the slight slope.

There was no need to say why he was here, and Ironside got straight to the point.

'I need to see inside the lock-up,' Ironside said firmly. 'Right now.'

'Well, I suppose, well, yeah, sure Chief.'

Normally, he would have required some sort of formal identification, but Johnston must have guessed that the Chief was in no mood to waste time with "official procedure" at the moment. The officer took him through personally, through the double-locked doors and into the holding area, where everything was kept safe, waiting collection for transport to the Court.

Ironside looked round carefully, examining the shelves and the other plain brown boxes. Nothing was amiss, nothing else was out of place and there was no sign of anything odd. Annoyed, Ironside rolled himself back to the small main reception area where Mark had waited, then he sat glowering at the floor.

'Find something?' Mark asked.

Ironside shook his head. Truthfully, he hadn't expected to find anything, he just wanted to get a feel for the area. At last, the Chief turned to Officer Johnston, who had been hovering at Ironside's shoulder the whole time in anxious silence.

'So tell me what happened?' he said to Johnston.

'Well, you know, Chief, nothing different, that's just the thing. Sergeant Brown just came in with the order, he signed, I got the box and he left. There was nothing unusual. It happens all the time.'

'You were here on your own?'

'Yeah, it was just the start of lunch break, so I was here alone. We never get busy at lunchtime.'

Ironside frowned. That was another convenient piece of timing. Johnston was the only one here. That pointed to careful planning.

'You sure it was Ed?' asked Mark.

'Come on! I know Ed Brown!'

'Even if your mind was on lunch?'

'And just what's that supposed to mean?'

'Were you concentrating on your job? Were you watching what you were doing?'

'You've no right to insinuate that, Sanger!' snapped Johnston. 'Don't take it out on me if your buddy's switched sides and done a runner with…'

'Stop it!' said Ironside loudly. 'This is not a schoolyard! And arguing is not helping matters.'

'Sorry, Chief,' said Mark, looking contritely at the floor. Johnston added his own, more mumbled, apology.

'Ed showed you his badge?' asked Ironside.

Johnston nodded.

'It was all by the book, Chief,' he said. 'I know the score with McDonald. I'm not going to be breaking regs, not with that one!'

'What did he say?'

'Nothing. Well, nothing 'cept asking for a box.'

'Did he normally chat to you?'

'He often passed the time of day.'

'But not today?'

'No. He looked busy. Impatient. He was just in and out, quick as you like,' Johnston frowned. 'I didn't think anything of it. We all know the big case is coming up. I just figured you wanted it quickly. I figured it had to be important.'

Ironside nodded. It all sounded so worryingly straightforward.

'So when did you report it missing?'

At the question, Johnston licked his lips, shifting his weight away from the Chief.

'Burwell called a half hour, or an hour later. Lieutenant Burwell, Narcotics?'

'I _know_ who Lieutenant Jimmy Burwell is,' growled Ironside.

'All the files go up sometime after lunch, Burwell likes to know what's going on. He called as soon as he saw it demanding an explanation. He said your signature was forged.'

'And?'

'A-And…?' Johnston looked at the Chief, then to Mark. 'And what?'

'My office has a phone. My van has a phone, Officer Johnston. Why didn't you call _me?_ '

'P-p-pro-procedure states that any queries have to be handled through Internal Affairs. Murray was clear that…'

'That still doesn't explain why you didn't pick up the phone and ask me. It took almost two hours to send someone over to my office!' bellowed Ironside. 'That's two hours you have wasted! _Why_?'

The answer was obvious. Johnston was scared to death of the Chief.

Ironside watched the other man for a few moments, his anger simmering. If Johnston hadn't been so keen on doing everything by the book, Ironside wouldn't have been kept in the dark for so long, and Ed wouldn't have had such a big head start.

Johnston started to mumble another apology, but Ironside cut him off.

'That's all in the past,' he said, his tone showing his displeasure. 'And there's nothing else?'

'Well, I did mention the weather to him,' said Johnston with a strained laugh. Ironside didn't see anything particularly funny about that, and he glared at Johnston. The laugh died away.

Ironside wheeled himself closer to the main desk, where Ed Brown must have stood to wait for Johnston to return with the drugs. He examined it carefully, looking for any sign that Ed had left a clue to his intentions. But there was nothing. No sign that he had ever been there. No clue, no message. Nothing.

'What you looking for Chief?' asked Johnston.

Ironside looked up at the other man in surprise.

'If Ed was in trouble, be might have tried to leave a message. Letters, numbers, scrawled with a pen. Something.'

'But he didn't have a pen,' said Johnston.

'No _pen_? Ed?' said Ironside incredulously.

'You still sure it was Ed Brown?' said Mark, with a half smile.

'He borrowed mine,' said Johnston patting his pocket, where Ironside could see the top of a tatty-looking biro poking out.

Ironside glared at Johnston again.

'Is there anything else you haven't told me about this supposedly _normal_ exchange?' he demanded. 'Did he have his gun?'

Johnston shrugged, looking back and forth between the Chief and Mark.

'We don't check your firearms at Property,' he said. 'I didn't see.'

'But you are a trained police officer, _Officer_ Johnston. You're supposed to be relied on to keep your eyes open.'

'I didn't see,' insisted Johnston. 'He had his jacket on.'

Just as Johnston stopped talking, there was a cough behind Ironside and the Chief looked round. A young officer was standing close by, looking uneasy.

'Chief Ironside?' a man asked tentatively. Ironside didn't recognise him, and judging by his uptight manner and his clean-cut demeanour, he was a rookie.

'Yes?' snapped Ironside, not in the mood to pander to anyone at the moment. 'What is it?'

'It's um… it's the Commissioner,' the man said in an almost conspiratorial whisper, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. 'He's waiting for you in there.'

Ironside's formidable scowl never wavered for a moment.

'That is _all_ I need,' he muttered, wheeling himself round and rolling to the doorway. 'Mark, you wait here.'

The rookie held the door open for him as he went inside. Commissioner Dennis Randall was sitting on the edge of the table, his arms crossed, frowning down at the floor. He waited until the door had closed behind Ironside before looking up. From the expression on his face Ironside could see this was not going to be an easy conversation. Somehow, with the Commissioner, they never were. He braced himself.

'So, Dennis, I see you've heard,' said Ironside.

'I _heard_ a great deal later than I would have expected, Bob!' said Dennis angrily. 'I would have expected you to tell me of something as important as this as soon as it came in.'

'I didn't want to worry you, Commissioner,' said Ironside, as lightly as he could. Randall kept frowning.

'You _know_ what I mean, Bob,' he said. 'This is bigger than you, or your staff. This is one of the biggest cases we've brought to court in a long, long time. There's a lot riding on this.'

Ironside nodded, though he didn't need to be told. It was one of the highest profile cases he'd been involved with, almost as big as the Richards case a number of years ago. That name scratched at the back of Ironside's mind, bringing back some very unpleasant memories. He didn't want to go through something as disastrous as _that_ again.

'And when the press get hold of this, I dread to think what's going to happen,' said Randall with a sigh.

'You can keep a lid on it for the time being,' said Ironside. 'Only a handful of people know. Johnston, Burwell, Murray from Internal Affairs, Carl. Just make sure it stays that way.'

'And what if Sergeant Brown has other ideas about that?'

Ironside took _that_ remark as an insult. He would have said something short and unpleasant to the Commissioner, old friendships notwithstanding, but in a sense, he understood what Dennis meant. Ed seemed to be the one with the all the cards at the moment, and in all truth, Ironside had no idea what Ed would do next. So instead of answering back, the Chief contented himself with glowering.

'I know what you think already,' said Randall. 'And I don't want to believe it either. But we have to consider the possibility that…'

'You've known Ed Brown for as long as I have,' interrupted Ironside angrily. 'You know what kind of cop he is, what kind of man he is!'

'That's not the point,' insisted Randall. 'You know what he's done. He walked into this office with a forged order and walked out with vital evidence. And now he's gone.'

'But we don't know why he did any of that.'

Dennis stood up, arms still crossed, expression uncompromising.

'Well, we're running out of options, Bob. The McDonald case is up in less than two days. Evidence is missing, along with one of the policemen connected with the investigation. You tell me how it's going to look to the Defence?'

'I know that!'

'The whole case is going to come crashing down about our ears unless we act quickly.'

The two men stared at each other. The Commissioner looked away first.

'And I know how worried you must be, Bob,' said Randall quietly.

From the whole police department in the City of San Francisco, Robert Ironside had chosen Ed Brown and Eve Whitfield to be on his staff. The very idea that one of them could go bad, cross the fence and betray the department was as much of a personal insult as anything else.

'We have to be realistic, Bob,' said Randall. 'We have to face the facts. And somehow we have to get that evidence back, before the judge calls a mis-trial and McDonald walks out of here a free man.'

'I know,' said the Chief. 'But we cannot discount the possibility that Ed did this under duress.'

'Is that what you think?' asked Dennis. 'Because, either way, we have to find him.'

Ironside had no choice but to tell the other man the truth and tell him what he really thought, in the circumstances. He owed him that much. Ironside's face darkened.

'Frankly, Dennis? If he was forced into this somehow, then I think he's dead. Once the drugs were out of the Property Office, they had no reason to keep him alive.'

There was a very unpleasant silence.

'And what if he's not dead,' asked Randall. 'What if he's alive and well, and sitting around with a million dollars worth of drugs to keep him company?'

Ironside drew a deep breath.

'Then he has a _lot_ of explaining to do.'

* * *


	3. Broken Silence and a Burnt Out Car

Broken Silence and a Burnt Out Car

Ironside had no desire to talk to anyone on the way back to his office home, he made that perfectly clear. Mark drove in silence, and though he must have been anxious to discuss what had happened, or at least find out what the Commissioner had said, he didn't disturb his boss.

Even in the elevator up to the attic, Ironside remained deep in thought, his mind constantly drifted back to his colleagues. He thought of Eve, wondering where she was, wondering if she was safe, wondering why he hadn't heard from her.

But mostly, he thought about Sergeant Ed Brown, the young ex-marine that had joined the force and worked his way up to become Ironside's indispensable right-hand man. Through everything, Ed had always been there when Ironside needed him, even smuggling bourbon into his hospital room after the sniper shooting, risking the wrath of the formidable Sister Agatha on the way.

And Ed had _never_ let him down. Never, ever, in all the years they had known each other. Not until today. The feeling of betrayal sat uncomfortable with Ironside, but at the moment, that's what all that facts pointed to.

What had happened? What had gone wrong?

This morning, Ed had appeared at the office his usual, contented self. There was no hint that anything was wrong. There was nothing over the past weeks or months either, Ed was known for his exemplary work record; it was only to be expected from someone who worked for the Chief.

And the more Ironside thought about what had happened, the more incomprehensible it became. He needed answers.

Fortunately, Lieutenant Reese was waiting in the office, an older lady waiting with him. She was about sixty, with a delicate look to her, dyed red hair and a faded blue dress that was at least two sizes too large.

Ironside smiled at her as he rolled through the doorway, and she smiled uncertainly back, fidgeting with the handbag on her lap.

Once again, Carl looked like he'd been given a death sentence and he was holding yet _another_ file. But since he clearly didn't want to discuss it in front of the old lady, Ironside let it pass for the moment.

'This is Mrs Whittaker, the owner of the Bayside Motel,' explained Reese. 'Mrs Whittaker, this is Chief Ironside.'

'Pleased to meet you,' said Ironside politely.

The old lady smiled again, looking less nervous.

'Mrs Whittaker was with Ed and Eve this morning,' Carl explained.

Ironside looked to the woman eagerly.

'You were?'

'Oh, yes! That _nice_ Mr Brown came round to see me this morning, about eleven o'clock. The young lady was with him.'

In spite of everything, Ironside smiled. Ed had a very natural and charming way with women of all ages.

'Did they spend long with you?'

'They stayed for a cup of tea, and some of my sponge cakes,' she said. 'But the person they were looking for, that Mr Brant, didn't come back, so they left after about half an hour. Maybe more like three-quarters. We did talk for a long time.'

'It sounds like you enjoyed yourself,' said Carl.

'Oh, I _did_ ,' she beamed. 'I don't get many visitors, and they were so friendly. Nice to see young people with such good manners. I didn't think policemen were so courteous. We had a lovely chat.'

'And you saw them leave?' asked Reese. Mrs Whittaker nodded.

'Well, I could see them from my front room, you see,' she said. 'And I waved goodbye. It was only polite.'

'They just drove off?' Ironside asked, trying to calculate the time difference, and see if it fitted in with the call Ed had made before lunch. But he didn't get the answer he expected.

'Well… not _exactly_ drove off, no. Not right away.'

' _No_?'

'Mr Brown waved back, he's such a gentleman. But the car stayed there under the tree for quite a few minutes. It seemed so odd that I kept watching. After a minute, Mr Brown got back out. And another man. They stood in front of the car. They seemed to be talking.'

Carl and Mark exchanged glances, but Ironside kept looking at Mrs Whittaker.

'The other man, did you see him? Would you recognised him?'

'I'm not sure,' said Mrs Whittaker, sounding worried. 'It was quite far away, my eyesight isn't what it used to be. I know I should use glasses but the don't seem to make any ones that I really _like_ and I'm not vain but…' The sentence trailed off and she looked to the ground.

Ironside leaned back, turning to Mark.

'Get on to Records, have them get the mug files ready downstairs. And find the police artist, just in case.' Mark nodded and picked up the phone. Ironside turned back to Mrs Whittaker.

'What happened with Ed and the other man? Did they talk? Did they argue? Could you make out what they were talking about.'

'I'm not sure I'm afraid, Mr Ironside. It seemed that the other man did most of the talking. Mr Brown had his back to me. But he didn't seem very well afterwards, the other man had to help him to the car.'

'Was Sergeant Brown driving?'

'Oh, yes.'

Ironside frowned more deeply.

'And that was all?' he asked.

Mrs Whittaker nodded.

'The car drove off after they got back inside,' said Mrs Whittaker. 'And that was all I saw.'

'I see. Thank you, Mrs Whittaker, that's very helpful. Very helpful indeed.'

In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Ironside's gaze automatically went back to the file under Reese's arm. Ironside waited for the lieutenant to say something, but instead, Carl kept fidgeting with it.

Next to Ironside, Mark put the phone down with a click.

'The mug shots will be ready in a few minutes,' he told Ironside. 'George is downstairs too, whenever you need him.'

'Good,' replied the Chief. 'Mrs Whittaker, if you don't mind, we would like you to take a look through some of photographs, and maybe even see George the police artist if you don't make any headway with the mug-shots. We need a picture of the man Sergeant Brown was with. Lieutenant Reese will show you the way.'

At that, Ironside gazed pointedly at Carl, and at last, he handed over the file.

'You're not going to like what's in _there_ ,' Carl said.

'But at least you won't be here when I read it and start shouting,' said Ironside. 'And next time, you have my permission to send someone _else_ with all the bad news.'

'No one else dared,' Reese replied, taking Mrs Whittaker by the arm, escorting her out of the office.

'Well?' asked Mark, unable to wait until the door closed behind them. 'What is it?'

Ironside opened the file, glancing at the top sheet.

'There was nothing at Ed's apartment,' he said.

'That's good. I suppose.'

There was an uneasy silence as Ironside turned over to the next page.

'Hey, what is it man?' asked Mark.

'It's not totally unexpected,' he said with a sigh. 'They found Ed's Ford down in the warehouse district.'

'That's good, right? I mean, it has to be good that they found his car.'

'It's burnt to a cinder.'

' _What_!'

'Just what I said, Mark,' Ironside snapped. 'It's a burnt out shell. It was set alight with gasoline.'

'Was anyone…? Did they find…?'

Mark had to wait a few moments for a reply, as Ironside was reading the report.

'They can't be sure,' he said. 'But it looks like it was empty.'

Mark tipped his head back, glancing to the ceiling.

'Man, this is some bad trip,' he said.

Ironside was still reading, only half-listening to Mark.

'It was totally gutted,' he said. 'Everything inside was incinerated. Everything.'

Mark jerked his attention back to Ironside.

'D'you think…? Well, that…?'

The Chief looked up at him, his expression as neutral as he could make it.

'You mean, do I think that a million dollars worth of junk just went up in smoke?'

'Well, yeah?'

'I have no idea,' said Ironside. 'We'll just have to wait for the forensics report.'

'That report will take days!' said Mark, his frustration showing clearly for the first time. 'And all we get is more waiting!'

Ironside couldn't have agreed with his friend's sentiments more. The possibility that the evidence had just been destroyed was demoralising. It really was _that_ simple a strategy to get McDonald off.

'But, you know, this helps, right?' said Mark. 'Even with the car, what the old lady said helps.'

'It doesn't help or hinder,' said Ironside heavily. 'All it means is that someone else is involved. It doesn't tell us how deep Ed is in.'

'But surely…'

'No!' snapped Ironside. 'Stick to the facts and don't speculate. Ed was the one who walked into Property with a forged order. Ed signed for the evidence. And Ed was the one who walked out with the junk. That's the bottom line at the moment.'

Mark scowled at the Chief.

'Ok then, what about Eve?'

Ironside's dark look grew more intimidating.

'What _about_ Eve?'

'Where is she? No one's seen her since the Bayside.'

Ironside didn't answer. If Ed was on the level and had decided to change sides, he couldn't have persuaded Eve to go along with it. He kept expecting the phone to ring, with Eve at the other end, talking as if nothing had happened. There had to be a reasonable explanation.

'I don't know where she is, Mark,' Ironside said heavily.

Mark pursed his lips, clearing wanting to say more, but he didn't. There was a long silence, and Mark was staring at him. He could guess what was coming next, Ironside knew Mark well.

'Come on, Chief,' he said at last. 'You've got to level with me. What do you think?'

'All the evidence…' started Ironside.

'No!' interrupted Mark. 'I know you. I know him. You can't _really_ think that Ed's on the take?'

'Can't I?'

'No,' said Mark firmly.

'It is damning evidence,' said Ironside. 'There's no hint that he was forced to do anything.'

'Come on, Chief! This is Ed Brown we're talking about, and he's about as likely as you or the Commissioner to sell out.'

'Mark…'

'You can't sit there and tell me you think he's guilty!'

Ironside levelled his gaze at the younger man, but Mark didn't back down. The tension between them was palpable, and Ironside could sense Mark's anger at what was going on. But getting angry wasn't going to help anyone at the moment.

'But Ed…' Mark started.

'You're not going to make it as a lawyer thinking like that,' the Chief said crisply. 'We need to stick to the facts.'

'But this is Ed were talking about!'

'Fact, Sergeant Brown had access,' replied Ironside, narrowing his eyes. 'Fact, he knows the McDonald case well. Fact, he knows my signature. And he had the opportunity. And no one was going to stop him, not with my name on the order. All he had to do was get Eve out of the way for a while, send her on a wild-goose chase somewhere without a phone and he would have all the time in the world to get in and out of Property. And no one would suspect.'

Mark's face grew hard, almost disgusted at the suggestion. But there wasn't much to argue with. Those _were_ the facts. Ed had access and opportunity.

'And instinct?' asked Mark. 'What about your _instinct,_ Chief!'

It was a fair point, and Ironside nodded an acknowledgement. At the moment his instinct was bellowing at him that this was all wrong, and that there was no way in stone cold Hell that Ed could be involved in anything like this, whatever the evidence. He trusted his instinct, but he had to be careful. He needed _proof_. Proof was the only thing that could help Ed now.

'This feels like it's been planned and executed to perfection,' said Ironside, voicing his personal opinion for the first time. 'But I think we are all missing something. Something big. I think we've only just started. Some of these _elements_ , the evidence, the fire, they remind me of a different case, from year ago.'

Mark waited, eager to hear more but Ironside didn't speak.

Everything was clearly going the way it was planned, with Ironside trailing along hours behind events. All the evidence pointed to Ed crossing the fence, but the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that was what he was _supposed_ to think. The picture was just a little too perfect. No one would leave so _much_ incriminating evidence lying around.

But that left the question of who would want to set Ed up like that? Was it someone with a grudge against him? Ed had been a policeman for ten years or so, he'd trod on a lot of toes and been involved in a lot of difficult cases, thanks to his position on Ironside's staff. There were bound to be people who would like to set him up like this, to see if it would take him all the way to San Quentin for a taste of rough justice.

The telephone rang and the Chief let Mark answer it, praying silently that it was Eve.

' _Chief_!' There was a note of genuine fear in Mark's voice as he spoke, and Ironside whirled round. Sanger was holding out the handset. Ironside knew what he was going to say a moment before he said it. 'It's Ed!'

The Chief grabbed the telephone.

'Ironside,' he said, his voice as clear and steady as always.

'Hello Chief.' There was no doubt in his mind that the man at the other end of the line was his sergeant. He sounded tired, but calm, far too calm for Ironside's liking.

'Ed…'

'I know you're going to have this conversation recorded, so there's no need for you to ask any questions. Do you understand?'

Ed had never taken that sort of brusque tone with him and Ironside was almost stunned in to silence. But not quite.

'Then get on with it!' he growled.

'The ransom for the safe return of the evidence is two million dollars. Do you understand?'

He didn't know what to expect, but a ransom had been high on the list. But two million was a _lot_ of money, twice its street-value.

'That's quite a sum for such a small amount of _evidence_!'

'Isn't it worth it?' replied Ed. His voice was neutral, he wasn't going to give anything away. _Why was he doing this_? wondered Ironside. _What was going on_? How could he push far enough to find out?

'And what about you?' asked Ironside, changing tactics.

Ed didn't reply. The way he didn't speak about himself made the Chief even more anxious.

'Alright, what about Eve?'

He still had no idea where Eve was either. He had to get some sort of information about her.

'What _about_ Eve?' Ed replied.

'Is she alright?'

'You really think I'd let anything happen to her?'

'Ed, what…'

'Shut up and listen!' It wasn't an order that Ironside heard, so much as a plea. But also, this was the first time Ed himself had sounded anything other than in control. 'Get the money by four o'clock, Wednesday morning. I'll contact you once more about the drop. Do you understand?'

'No warnings about trying to find you?' He was pushing, he knew. That was the only way he was going to get any answers.

'You won't.'

Ironside thought he detected a note of despair this time, but dismissed it as wishful thinking. He had to stick to the facts. He had to get some explanation while he still had the chance.

'And what if we don't want to pay?' he said calmly.

'Don't fuck around, Chief!' hissed Ed, suddenly furious, the abrupt change taking Ironside by surprise as much as the four-letter word. 'The McDonald Case is going to collapse without it. You know that. I know that. Do you understand? That gives you exactly thirty-five hours to get the money or McDonald walks out of the lock-up a free man. You really going to risk that?'

Ironside didn't reply.

'Well?' demanded Ed.

'No,' admitted Ironside. 'No, I'm not going to risk it. Neither is the Commissioner.'

'Fine. Then we _understand_ each other.'

Understanding was the very last thing Ironside had at that moment. He would have said something but the phone went dead, and Ironside was left with static.

Shocked, he handed the receiver back to Mark to replace, as his hand was shaking too much.

The bitter feeling of betrayal was impossible to ignore. The phone call was the final piece of evidence, surely no one in their right mind could argue that Ed Brown was still on the side of law and order after that conversation.

Ironside stared at the handset for a few moments. Taken at face value, that was the final nail in the coffin. Ed had done it. He'd stepped over the line and there was no turning back.

'The call could have been made under duress,' said Mark softly. 'It doesn't mean that Ed sold out.'

'Doesn't it?' asked Ironside. 'Then what does it mean, Mark? You heard him. You know what he's done. There's no hint of anything else. No one is going to believe his innocent. Not now.'

'So?' asked Mark nervously.

The words stuck in Ironside's throat for a few seconds before he forced himself to speak.

'So there's nothing we can do for him.'

* * *

In a small, dimly lit room a few miles across the city, Ed Brown also sat staring numbly at a telephone, shocked at what had just happened. He put his hand to his aching head, feeling the slick, warm line of blood on his temple, and he closed his eyes.

Someone patted him on the shoulder.

'Well done, Sergeant Brown,' said a voice behind him. 'That was very good. And don't worry, betrayal gets easier every time.'

Ed didn't move. He couldn't. He felt as though he was going to be sick.

All he could think was: _Oh, God, what have I done_?

* * *


	4. Leverage

Leverage

It was a beautiful, bright Monday morning in San Francisco, with no clouds in the sky. The sun had burned off the mist from the bay, and the temperature had been slowly rising. It was a good day to be out in the city, not shut up inside. And Sergeant Ed Brown had been _very_ glad to get out of Ironside's office. In fact, he'd jumped at the suggestion of meeting Brant, as the tension was getting increasingly claustrophobic with the McDonald case coming to court so soon.

Even with chasing a dead-end lead, it was still a good day. Brant hadn't shown, in spite of his clear message that he would, but Ed had decided to wait for a while extra, just in case, partly to be thorough, but partly to avoid having to go back to Headquarters _too_ soon. Eve hadn't disagreed, and they had spent a surprisingly pleasant three quarters of an hour with Brant's landlady, one Mrs Whittaker, the owner of the Bayside Motel.

Now the peaceful morning was virtually over and, after having had as much weak tea and chit chat as he could stand, it was time to go back to the lion's den and face the Chief. Side by side with Officer Whitfield, they walked down the narrow, stone path back towards their car, the prospect of heading back to the office weighing heavily on his mind.

'Well, that was a productive waste of a morning,' said Eve. 'If only all police work was as enjoyable.'

'You wouldn't say that if you'd had any of her cakes,' replied Ed.

'That's because I'm not greedy, like you.'

'I was being polite.'

His black Ford Galaxie was just ahead of them, wisely parked in the shade of a large tree.

'But I wonder why he didn't show,' said Brown, changing the subject. 'Brant's usually so reliable. And it was an odd place for a meet.'

'Maybe he likes tea and cakes,' suggested Eve lightly. 'You did.'

Ed smiled at her, thinking what a good mood she was in. She had been like that for weeks, since the chance meeting with her ex-fiancée a few months ago. He didn't want to pry into her private life, but he knew she was happier than he'd seen her in a long time. He suspected that there was a certain special _something_ that she wasn't telling them about her relationship with Scott Bradley, and again he wondered how much longer she could keep it a secret.

'You know,' said Eve as they came to the car. 'I think she's waving at _you_.' Ed turned to glance round, back to the Motel, the way Eve was facing. Sure enough, Mrs Whittaker was there, waving through one of the upstairs windows. Eve had moved round to the passenger side of the car, and leaned forward across the top slightly, still grinning with a slightly mischievous air.

'I think she likes you,' added Eve.

Ed grinned back.

'Such a shame I can't stay, but duty calls.' He opened his door, leaning against the frame of the car, copying Eve's posture.

'Even with the Chief in a mood?'

'Even with the Chief in a mood,' he said.

They stared at each other, and he knew she was waiting to add something else.

'So can we stop for lunch?' she said.

'Lunch?' Ed checked his watch. It had just gone twelve. 'A little early for lunch. The Chief wants us back and we've wasted about as much time as we dare. He's got that meeting with the Commissioner at two. We'll have to be ready for it.'

'Oh, come on Ed, don't be such a spoilsport! Ernie's is just down the block. What would you say to some salmon parfait? Scott and I were there yesterday and it was delicious. The Chief will never know.'

Eve sometimes just couldn't help herself. Ernie's was the biggest most prestigious restaurant this side of the Bay, the place to see and be seen. No wonder Scott Bradley had taken her there.

'I'm not as rich as Mr Bradley,' he said. He saw her smile widen in delight as he said the name. 'So who's going to pay?'

'You are, of course! You wouldn't let a lady pay for lunch, would you?'

'In that case we're going to get a hotdog. That's all I can afford.'

Eve pouted and ducked into the car.

Ed slid into the driver's seat, noticing it felt slightly odd, as if it had been pulled too far forward. He wriggled, trying to get comfortable, pushing against the wheel to try and settle. It didn't work.

'But you know what hotdogs do to a girl's figure,' Eve was saying with mock seriousness. 'You'll have to get me a sandwich. Tuna on rye.'

'We're _not_ going to stop for lunch.'

'But I'm hungry,' said Eve in a reasonable tone. 'The Chief's not going to ball us out for that. Just because we're the police doesn't mean we don't get to eat.'

Ed was just about to tell her that she should have tried one of Mrs Whittaker's cakes to keep her going until they got chilli at the Chief's, when there was a click by his ear. Though under other circumstances he would have moved, he didn't. He recognised the sound. It was the click of a gun.

After a moment, he shifted his gaze very slightly, looking towards Eve out of the corner of his eye. The relaxed smile and laughter had gone from her face, now her mouth was half-open in an "o" of surprise. Nestled at the back of her neck was the clear profile of a Colt handgun. Two guns, that meant two gunmen. They stayed perfectly still.

'Very good,' said a voice from behind Ed. The voice was male, with a clear, educated, California accent, but he didn't recognise it. 'That's very, very good. No panic, no stupid moves. I would have hated this to end prematurely.'

They were at a serious disadvantage, there was no disputing that. Ed's instinct screamed at him to react, to do something, but for all the calculating chances and measuring odds, Ed knew that his best chance to get him and Eve out of this alive was to play along, for now.

But he had to try something, just to get some sort of reaction and to help him gauge the situation, to find out if the men were pros or amateurs. He tried to lift one of his hands off the wheel, but the gun by his ear pressed hard against his head.

'No, leave them there, where I can see them.'

He tightened his grip on the wheel, trying to keep calm. Whoever it was behind them was taking no chances.

'Let me be clear,' said the man. 'I would prefer not to shoot you, but if I must, I must. Do you understand?'

Ed nodded. Eve did too.

'Good. First things first, Sergeant Brown…' Ed caught his breath at the use of his name. This was no ordinary hit, this was planned. They knew who they were! '…you will remain perfectly still. Miss Whitfield, you will remove Brown's gun from his belt.'

Eve nodded and jerked forward nervously, banging her hand on the dashboard.

'But slowly,' the voice reminded her. 'You wouldn't want me to get the wrong idea.'

More carefully, Eve reached across, threading her arm between Ed and the steering column, and he felt her fumble with the catch on his holster. He could hear her shallow breathing, he could feel the shake of her hand against his shirt, but her face showed none of the fear she must be experiencing.

She pulled the gun free and, as she moved back, she looked up at Ed, her eyes full of the hidden terror she didn't dare show. He wanted to say something to reassure her, but there was nothing he could say that would help.

'Now, Miss Whitfield,' the voice said. 'Put that gun in your bag with your own, and slowly pass it over your shoulder, back to me.' Eve obeyed.

There was silence for a few moments, and Ed stared hard at his whitened knuckles as he gripped the steering wheel, trying to concentrate rather than panic. His instinct was telling him this wasn't a robbery, or a carjacking or straightforward kidnapping, this was something much more dangerous.

In the circumstances there wasn't much he could do. He had to treat this like any other kidnap attempt; the cardinal rule was not to endanger the victims.

There was a shuffling, rummaging noise, as if the man was rifling through Eve's purse. Suddenly, it stopped.

'Now,' said the voice. 'You are going to call in to the Chief's office, Sergeant Brown. You will tell him that you are on your way back now, and that's all. I want it short, and simple, and totally natural. Do you understand?'

'Yes,' Ed replied evenly.

'Any hint that anything is amiss, and we will pull these triggers, no second chances. Do you understand _that_ too?'

'Yes,' he said again. There was a cold, calculating calmness about the voice and Ed was convinced that this man meant what he said.

Ed picked up the car-phone, and dialled. Part of him, a large part, wanted to try and get a message to Ironside. But he didn't dare, not like this, he'd had no time to think it through carefully and to work out what he could say. And there was no way he could risk doing anything that could endanger Eve. Ed frowned at the thought. He had the unpleasant feeling that was the point.

At the other end, the phone lifted up.

'Ironside.' The Chief sounded irritable. Under other circumstances, Ed would maybe have made a small joke, but the last thing he felt like doing just now was kidding around.

'Hi Chief,' he said.

'Where the blazes are you two?' the Chief thundered down the phone. 'You're supposed to be here. We have _work_ to do, you know.'

'We're on our way back now,' said Ed, knowing that wasn't true. He had no idea where they were going. The gun was pressed hard against the base of his skull.

'What about Brant?'

'He was a no show, Chief,' Ed replied. Ironside grunted.

'Typical! Well, get yourselves back here right away. And tell Eve she can't stop at Ernie's!'

Ed didn't even have the chance to say goodbye before the line went dead. He breathed out very slowly, an uncomfortable feeling of guilt creeping over him.

'That was very good as well,' said the voice. 'But the Chief didn't sound in such a happy mood.'

Ed pursed his lips, biting back the cynical comment. Getting them mad wasn't going to help.

'All right. Next, Sergeant Brown, you will empty your pockets,' the man told him. 'Completely.'

Ed did as he was asked, removing the small Swiss Army knife he carried, all his small change and his house keys from his pants and his cuff key, his badge, pen and the notebook from his jacket, and handed them over.

'And I'll have your handcuffs too,' said the man.

Slowly, keeping one hand on the wheel, Ed leaned forward and pulled the cuffs free from their catch at the back of he belt and passed them back over his shoulder, not turning round.

'That's good. Now Sergeant Brown, you and I are going to step out of the car for a moment. And do I really need to say what will happen if you do anything thoughtless?'

Ed hesitated, but eventually shook his head. What could he do anyway? He couldn't run off without Eve?

'You will get out and stand next to the hood. We need a little talk, just to be clear about a few things.'

Slowly, Ed got out of the car, taking a surreptitious glance behind Eve, to see what the other gunman was like. He got a fleeting impression of a thick-set man, dressed in dark clothes.

The other man got out of the car behind him, and they walked round the open door to the hood.

Ed turned to face his assailant. He was about fifty and tall, tall enough for Ed, at six foot two, to have to look up slightly. He was heavily built, but strong rather than fat, and dressed in a dark blue suit, with a dark shirt and tie. He looked nothing like a mugger, a robber or a kidnapper. Instead, the man looked like a businessman, smart and highly intelligent. Ed knew his instinct was right on the money, though he was not pleased about being right. This was no ordinary carjacking.

The man took a deliberate step forward, standing far too close for Ed to be comfortable with. He had the urge to move back, but he forced himself to stay still.

'Do you know who I am?' the man asked, his tone friendly and conversational, as if they were talking about the football scores.

Ed shook his head. He did look familiar, though, but Ed couldn't place the face.

'I'm Richards, Anthony Richards. _Tony R,_ I was often called. I think you might have heard of me.'

'Oh…' murmured Ed. He swayed, a wave of panic leaving him feeling light-headed. The Chief had spoken a number of times about Tony R, and all of it was very, very, _very_ bad.

'I see you have,' said Richards with a grin. 'How gratifying that Robert hasn't forgotten about me.'

It would take a very, very long time for the Chief to forget Anthony Richards, Ed knew. He was once a well-known criminal around the Bay area, cunning, brilliant, ruthless. He'd run part of the Syndicate for three years, and the city lived in fear, until a certain young lieutenant named Ironside had been able to do something about it. The outcome had become almost legendary, but in the mess that followed, the rest of the Richards family was killed. Anthony Richards was supposed to have been killed too. But that little _detail_ was wrong.

'You know my reputation, do you not? Your boss must surely have mentioned it?'

'Yes,' Ed managed to say. Some said ruthless, some said vicious, some said cruel, but it was all about the same to Ed Brown at that moment.

'Well, I can assure you my reputation has not mellowed over the years while I was _dead_ to the police,' Richards said with a depreciating smile. He leaned forward, looking down on Ed, a position that Ed was not used to. 'And you, young man, are going to do exactly as I say. Do you understand?'

With as much of a deep breath as he could manage, Ed looked straight back at Richards, staring into cold, brown eyes.

'Why should I?' Ed had to bunch his fists to steady himself to answer back. He was treading on very, very dangerous ground. Richards gave a mirthless smile.

'You mean apart from the fact I have a gun?'

'Yes.'

Richards shook his head with a light laugh that sent a cold spike of fear down Ed's spine. Richards took another step forward, so they were only a foot apart. Ed didn't dare move.

'You young policemen, you think you know everything. But since you didn't recognise me at first I don't suppose you recognised my friend in the car.'

Ed hadn't got a clear look at the man, but there was nothing familiar about him.

'No, I don't,' he said.

'He was once well known, just by the name Lonnie. A nice enough man to talk to, very good at cards, that's one of his few virtues. But, you see, he doesn't like that many people. And he doesn't like women. He assaults them. With a knife. Causes them a _lot_ of pain, he's good at that too. Then he kills them.'

That turn of phrase struck a particularly harsh chord inside Ed, the incident with Tom Dayton still fresh in his memory. There wasn't a day that passed when he didn't think about his dead fiancée, and what might have been. He suddenly realised he was shaking.

Richards nodded, seeing Ed understood.

'I'll be clear, Ed,' Richards said in a low voice that suddenly sounded anything but friendly and conversational. 'If you do anything, anything _at all_ against my wishes, I will personally make sure you are alive long enough to hear every single one of her screams. And my friend in there can make them last a very, very long time.'

Then, just to make sure Ed was in no doubt, Richards told him exactly _how_ , and spared no details. Hardened policeman though he was, Ed struggled to keep his composure. After just a minute of the sickening speech, Ed had to turn away.

'I see you understand,' said Richards. 'Understand this as well. The outcome is _entirely_ in your hands, Sergeant Brown. Personally, I have no desire to see anything unpleasant happen to so beautiful a lady, especially not one that the Chief admires so much.'

At that last line, Ed felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. That was the real twist of the knife. _The Chief_ …

'You will get in the car, and you will do exactly as I say,' Richards told him. 'Do you understand?'

Ed let his gaze drop to the ground. It was all very clever, no loopholes. He'd been completely out-manoeuvred and could see no way out. How had he let this happen? He was supposed to be a good cop. _How could he have let this happen?_

Sick all the way through to his heart, Ed nodded.

In an affable, almost caring way, Richards took Ed's arm and helped him back to the car.

'Oh,' added Richards, 'I don't think there is any need to worry Miss Whitfield at the moment, by telling what I've just said, especially about Lonnie. Do you?'

Ed shook his head. He wasn't going to tell anyone, he didn't think he'd _ever_ be able to form the words ever to repeat what he'd just heard. Especially about Lonnie.

As he got back into his seat, he looked towards Eve. Behind her, the other man had his gun pushed against her head with one hand, the other was gently brushing the curl of her blonde hair at the nape of her neck. Richards' words echoed loudly in his head.

He knew there was nothing else he could do. Richards said drive, and he drove.

They went straight to the Property Office. All the time, he could see Richards watching him in the rear-view mirror. He never took his eyes off Ed as the car weaved its way through the streets.

They pulled over close to the Property entrance. It was quiet, it was lunchtime and there were very few people around.

'There is something in there that I want,' Richards said. He handed Ed an open envelope, and let him take out a piece of folded paper from inside. 'All the documentation is in order, I can assure you. Bring back the package. And don't take longer than three minutes.'

He had no time to think it through. He couldn't risk not doing what Richards wanted.

'Ed!' said Eve, speaking for the first time. 'Ed, you can't!'

'But he is going to,' said Richards. 'Oh, and I should warn you now that the Officer on duty is called Johnston. You know him?' Ed nodded. 'So do I. And he's expecting you.'

The implication was clear. Johnston was in on this. If Ed tried anything clever, Richards would know. He'd been out-manoeuvred again.

'The three minutes is already counting down.'

Filed with impotent anger, Ed got out of the car, slamming the door on the way, and ran up to the Property Office. Sure enough Johnston was there and Ed swore to himself. The risk was too high. He just had to hope the Chief would come to understand, it was too great a risk to take, for Eve's sake.

He handed over the paper with a perfunctory greeting, and waited while Johnston went to collect whatever it was. He was only gone for a few seconds, as if the package itself had been prepared. Ed glared at Johnston when he came back, but the other officer didn't appear to notice.

The package was medium large and heavy for its size, and Ed had no idea what could be inside, the papers only showed the box and requisition numbers. But he did see Ironside's signature on the form. It was a fake, obviously, but a good one.

'Sign here,' said Johnston, pointing at the bottom line.

Ed didn't move.

'I don't have a pen,' he admitted.

'You detectives!' said Johnston. 'What would you do without us patrolmen?'

He handed over a cheap pen, and Ed signed the form, his signature looking slightly more indistinct than usual. Then he picked up the package and tucked it under his arm. Just as he was about to leave, Johnston beckoned him forward. The light smile was gone.

'Tell him "weather".'

For a moment, Ed stared.

'You'd better get going. You don't keep a man like that waiting.'

Ed glanced sharply down at his watch. Richards had said three minutes, this had taken almost that long already. Ed held the package firmly and darted out the door.

He was back at the car slightly out of breath, relieved to see that no one had moved, and Eve was still in the front, watching him with a confusing air of accusation and anxiety.

Ed passed the package over to her and got back into the car. She sat with it on her lap, looking down, not wanting to make eye contact. He could take a pretty good guess at what she was thinking, judging by her attitude. Maybe Richards had said something to her while he was away. Ed certainly wouldn't have put it past him.

'So, how was Officer Johnston?' asked Richards.

Ed looked away, not wanting to answer. He hated feeling like this, like a pawn in a bigger game. He hated not being in control.

'Did Officer Johnston _say_ anything?' prompted Richards.

This time, Ed knew there was no point in prevaricating. It was clearly a code.

'Weather,' he said.

Richard broke into a smile that spread across his face like a grimace.

'Well done, Sergeant Brown!' he said. 'We'll make a _conspirator_ of you yet!'

At the word, Eve turned to glare at him, angry accusation written all over her face. Ed stared blankly back. He'd never felt so completely out of his depth before.

'Let's go,' said Richards.

They drove again heading across the city, away from the centre, and Ed could feel the enmity radiating off Eve. He couldn't blame her, and there were no guarantees, Ed knew that. But he believed Richards would do exactly as he threatened if either one of them stepped out of line.

Knowing that, it was clear that he and Eve had only one chance: He had to do as Richards said and keep them both alive long enough for the Chief to help them.

* * *


	5. Imbalance

Imbalance

Anthony Richards took no chances with them. Everything was organised like a military operation, and even if Ed had been of the mind to try anything clever, he was given no opportunity. They drove on through the busy streets of the city. Ed could sense the unrelenting pressure of Richards' gaze on the back of his head. For about half an hour they made their winding way through San Francisco, up towards the warehouse district.

There they changed cars in an empty, dead-end street that was hemmed in on both sides by buildings. His Ford was parked beside some dumpsters, and he and Eve were escorted one by one to another car that was already there, waiting.

They changed positions as well. Ed was still in the driver's seat, but Eve was told to get in behind him, and Lonnie sat by her side, uncomfortably close beside her, from what Ed could see. The front seat was for Richards, but once Ed and Eve were in the other car with Lonnie, Richards put the package from Property in the trunk then went back to the Ford, carrying some fuel canisters.

Ed watched with growing fear as Richards poured a couple of cans of liquid over the inside of his old car. Then Richards returned, smelling faintly of gasoline, got in beside Ed and handed him a set of keys.

'Get going,' he said, pointing. 'But drive slowly.'

As they drove past the Ford, Richards struck a match and flicked it out of the passenger window, into the other car. Ed heard the sudden whoosh of fire, and in his wing mirror he could see the flames engulf the inside of the car. There wasn't going to be much left of that for the Chief to find.

He was told to drive on again, heading downtown, and again Ed did as he was ordered. All the time, Ed could see Eve clearly in the rear-view mirror, but she wouldn't look back. She stared pointedly out of the window, ignoring him. Occasionally, Ed caught a glimpse of Lonnie, he seemed to be watching every small move Eve made with dark, leering eyes.

Richards gave him directions and they travelled for about ten minutes through the downtown area and out towards the industrial sector. At last, they turned down a small side street, and Richards told him to stop.

They pulled up next to a door, Eve and Lonnie got out first, Ed and Richards next. There were no outward sign of any guns, not on an open street like this, but Ed knew Richards' gun was in his jacket pocket, and Lonnie's must have been handy as well.

Inside, Ed tensed. Every part of his instinct was telling him to act now, while he still had a chance of a clean getaway. This was the most vulnerable Richards and Lonnie had been. This was the best time to make a run for it. _If_ he dared to try. But Eve wouldn't even look at him, she barely even acknowledged him. Without some kind of communication, there was no chance they would act in concert. And there was no way he would try anything without tipping Eve off before. He needed her help.

His anticipation turned to frustration as they took the few steps across the street towards a door in a large, grey building. Eve still wouldn't look at him, and she made no move whatsoever. As he stepped over the threshold, Ed felt a curious sinking feeling, almost like despair. He remembered what despair felt like; in the days after Anne had died, it had nearly consumed him. But he had made a promise to himself and her memory that he would never give in to that feeling. He'd never expected to be so close to it again.

The door closed behind him with a secure sounding click, and Ed was left with the ominous and unnerving feeling that he'd let slip his only opportunity to get Eve and himself out of this alive.

The building was cold, and smelled of dust and dampness. It couldn't have been used in the past year or so. They were taken through an empty, cavern-like room to the offices at the back. Richards shepherded Ed towards the centre, where there was a table, a phone and a couple of metal, lattice-backed chairs. Lonnie guided Eve the other way to what looked like what was once a safe room. Ed tensed again, afraid of what Lonnie might have had in mind for Eve, but Lonnie stayed this side of the door as he shut it behind her, sliding the double bolt into place.

'Take off your jacket and take a seat,' said Richards, gesturing at one of the chairs. 'Put your hands behind your back.'

Ed did as he was told, slipping off his jacket and placing it on the table and sitting down. Lonnie took out a pair of handcuffs, most likely Ed's _own_ handcuffs, and snapped them as tightly as he could around Ed's wrists so they bit into his skin.

Ed tried to move, but quickly discovered that Lonnie was smarter than he looked, as he had threaded the chain of the cuffs between the mid post of the chair. The chair had also been fixed to the floor. It wouldn't move, and neither could Ed.

For the next half hour Richards and Lonnie moved in and out, ignoring Ed. They brought the package in from outside, and moved some other things around, but Ed was never left alone. His frustration soon gave way to hopeless anger. He couldn't move, he couldn't do anything but sit there and watch

Finally, Richards seemed to be satisfied with whatever they had been doing. He glanced at his watch and came over to stand right next to Ed, who looked up, having to tip his head back uncomfortably to see the other man's face.

'I have an important appointment,' Richards said. 'That door over there is going to be locked from the outside, with you and my associate here inside. There is only one key to the door, and I have it. There is no other way out. I expect to find you here when I return from my errand.'

With that, and the implicit warning, Richards left, locking the outer door behind him with a loud click.

Alone with Lonnie, the minutes crawled past. Ed's wrists had begun to ache very quickly, distracting him from what was going on, and no matter how he tried to move, the pain wouldn't go away. Every attempt at conversing with his captor met with failure, as Ed was ignored. All the time, Lonnie sat on the other chair, dealing out cards for himself in some twisted form of patience that Ed had never seen before.

At last, Ed gave up trying to talk. He had nothing to do but brood about what had happened, and how he could have done things differently. And that didn't make him feel any better. He had been out manoeuvred, but he hadn't completely given up. Though he couldn't risk Eve getting hurt, or _worse_ , he could still try and get some more information, in the hope of somehow tipping the Chief off, if he got the opportunity.

He knew that would be dangerous, very, very dangerous, but at least he would have the option. Whether or not he took it was a different matter. How far was he willing to go? How much of a risk could he take?

In his mind, he could see Eve's sunny smile as it had been this morning when they had joked about Scott and the salmon parfait. And he could remember the crushed, betrayed look on her face as she had stared out of the window of the car after they had been to Property. Who knows what Richards could have told her while he was out of earshot? And she was certainly acting like she believed he was on the take. Everything he'd done, everything Eve had seen, all pointed in the same direction. Somehow, he had to try and change that, he had to convince her they were still on the same side, even though it stung to think that she could believe that of him.

But Ed also knew he had to be realistic. It was unlikely he was going to get the opportunity. If Richards had lied to her, then he wasn't likely to give Ed the chance to clear himself. Either way, he would have to wait until Richards got back from his "appointment". Lonnie never spoke to him and acted like he wasn't there. It was clear that Lonnie wasn't the one in charge here. If he was going to try to see Eve, he would have to use Richards.

But that in itself was dangerous. Richards was a very clever man. He would suspect something, he might even have anticipated it. But the most likely way to get what he wanted was to be upfront about it. He was worried about Eve. He wanted to see she was ok. Richards should _understand_ that.

Once he had decided on a plan of action, the minutes seemed to pass even more slowly. Unable to see the time on his wristwatch, Ed had no idea how long he sat watching Lonnie play his strange game.

But at last there was the sound of a key in the lock, and Lonnie looked up from his cards. Richards appeared, looking pleased.

'Any trouble?' he asked.

'No, Mr Richards.' It was the first time Ed had heard Lonnie speak, and it was with a thick Texan accent. 'He's not tried anything.'

'Good.' Much to Ed's annoyance, Richards didn't look surprised. He went over to the package and started to open it. Ed knew if he was going to try and talk to Eve, it would have to be now, or never, before he lost any opportunity.

'I did as you wanted,' Ed said suddenly. 'So I want to see Eve.'

Richards looked around at him, as if surprised that he could speak.

'You're not in a position to demand anything, Brown,' replied Richards.

'It's not a demand. I want to make sure she's ok.'

 _And I have to do something,_ Ed thought. _I can't just sit around and hope it all works out._

'Why shouldn't she be?' Richards asked. 'My friend has been here with you the whole time. And I did tell you I didn't want to hurt her. You do believe that, don't you? You do believe I'll stick to what I say?'

Ed gave a grim smile, knowing what Richards was trying to do.

'I just want to make sure she's ok,' he repeated, deliberately not answering Richards' question. 'If you were in my position, wouldn't you?'

Richards pondered the idea for a few moments then smirked in a nasty way, his cold, level gaze fixed on Ed.

'All right, if it will make you feel any better. But Lonnie will stay with you, just to make sure you don't try anything stupid.'

Ed frowned, thinking maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all, how was he going to explain to Eve with Lonnie in the same room? But it was done now. He would have to make the best of it.

Lonnie opened the cuffs, and Ed rubbed his wrists, flexing his fingers slowly. Richards was watching his every movement with that same superior smile on his face.

Lonnie let Ed precede him to the door, and unbolt it. Lonnie obviously thought that Ed could be trying something on, as he kept a clear distance between them, watching his every move. Having that steady, intense stare on him made Ed feel incredibly uncomfortable.

The door opened. The room behind it was fairly small, and virtually empty, with a hard, steel ledge in one corner that could serve as a chair. The only light came from a narrow, heavily barred and dirty window high up in the wall.

Eve was standing up by the ledge, and she kept her distance from him.

'What do you want?' she asked in a cold tone.

'I wanted to make sure you were ok.'

'What for, to ease your conscience?'

'Eve, it's not what you think.'

'Don't patronise me, Ed!'

'Eve…'

Beside him, Lonnie shifted uneasily, and Ed suddenly realised that letting Lonnie anywhere near Eve was a huge mistake. He had no idea how the man might react. Ed gulped, a sinking sensation swelling inside his chest. No wonder Richards had seemed so damn smug about this; it was all going to go horribly wrong. Worse, he'd let himself be walked straight into it.

Eve was a wilful woman, she wasn't going to back down without saying what she thought. He had to get out of there before Lonnie did something. He took a small step back, hoping to just turn around and leave before anything happened. But Eve stepped after him, closer to Lonnie.

'Ed Brown, I want an explanation!'

He cursed his stupidity. Of course Richards would have foreseen something like this. And what better way to keep him in line than to show him a little of what Lonnie was capable of.

'Eve…' His voice was more strained than he thought it would be.

'They told me you had a price,' said Eve bitterly. 'That everyone has a _price_! What was yours? Is that what you were negotiating outside the car at Bayside? More money? How much is enough? One million? Two? _More_?'

In spite of the danger, Ed almost answered her back, but he saw that Richards had played them both like an old pro. _Divide and conquer_ , wasn't that the saying? Whatever they'd told her about him must have been enough to convince her of his guilt. And, though he was no longer sure of this himself anymore, it would have to have been very convincing to make her believe he would betray the Chief. But the point was, she believed Richards, and that was all that mattered.

Eve took another step closer to him, and to Lonnie as well.

'How could you, Ed? It's only money! I thought there was more to you that just money! I thought I knew you. I _trusted_ you, Ed!'

The word _trusted_ brought tears to her eyes, and the look of utter disgust she gave him was almost unbearable.

Unfortunately, Eve was too busy being angry that she didn't look twice at the other man, her full attention fixed on Ed. But Ed was fully aware of Lonnie and for the first time in hours, he felt he had actually done something right. Lonnie was glaring venomously at Eve.

'How could you betray him like this?' she asked, her voice rising in pitch. ' _How could you_?'

'Shut up, bitch!' Lonnie hissed.

Eve turned with a shocked gasp, perhaps realising for the first time that she was in danger from the other man. Lonnie moved forward, clearly intent on getting her to shut up, forcibly. But Ed was expecting it.

He moved between them, pushing Eve back as Lonnie swung a hook that caught Ed powerfully on the jaw. Off-balance anyway, Ed staggered, loosing his footing on the smooth floor, and he fell, knocking his right temple on the side of the ledge with a glancing blow. He hit the ground with a grunt.

A moment later he heard a muffled scream, but the room lurched uncontrollably as he tried to stand up. Perhaps he passed out for a moment, as there was silence. Then he heard rushing footsteps.

'What did I tell you!' Richards growled. ' _What did I tell you_! Get him up, I need him. You can play later.'

There was a thud, and a female cry, as Eve landed on the floor next to Ed. Even with a splitting headache and blood in his eyes, he could see the look of terror on Eve's face. She glanced up, her expression changing to one of concern, and she moved closer to reach out and help Ed upright.

'Sorry, Mr Richards,' said Lonnie apologetically.

Eve was kneeling beside Ed when she heard the name and she gave a tiny gasp. Ed gripped her hand and squeezed it as tightly as he could, praying that she wouldn't react any more. Richards hadn't noticed the slip.

'She was just being so… loud… so hysterical…' continued Lonnie.

Eve looked down. Across Ed's wrists, no longer hidden by the cuff of his shirt, were the red marks where the handcuffs had been digging in.

'Ed…?' she whispered, the look of confusion suddenly replaced by fear. She turned whiter.

Before he could open his mouth, Lonnie grabbed Ed by his arm and pulled him up. The room lurched again and Ed staggered, nausea rushing through his stomach. His head thumped like he had a hangover to end all hangovers and he could barely stand. He never got the chance to speak to Eve again, but he was dragged through the doorway, and he heard the door being locked behind him. It was small comfort, but at least Lonnie was out there with him, not in there with her.

Lonnie pushed him back into the chair and Ed didn't struggle, to nauseated to try. He let the room lurch to a stop before looking up.

'So are you satisfied _now_ that she's alright?' Richards asked, the mockery in his voice unmistakable.

'Yes,' whispered Ed.

Richards grabbed the back of Ed's hair and pulled sharply down, jerking his head back and sending a spike of agony across his temple.

'Then I trust you still believe what I said earlier,' he whispered. 'I would hate to think that you thought I didn't mean it.'

'I do,' gasped Ed, 'I do.'

'Maybe I should see this as you acting against my instructions? Should I be thinking that?'

'No. Please. No.'

Richards let go of Ed's hair and let him sit for a moment in silence.

'Well, you're not going to get a lot of help from her, are you, Sergeant Brown?' Richards said eventually.

'I guess that was the point,' murmured Ed. 'That's very clever.'

The wolfish grin on Richards' face grew wider.

'That's quite a way to be sure,' said Richards, tipping Ed's head to one side, pretending to look at the gash on his temple. 'But now that you have been reminded of what could so easily happen, I have something to show you.'

Richards waited, and after a few moments, Ed noticed the package from Property was now wide open on the table, and Ed could see small plastic bags of white powder inside.

'Don't you recognise it?' asked Richards.

Hurting and in no mood to play more games, Ed shook his head, immediately regretting it as the room spun once more. He fought not to be sick.

'It's heroin,' Richards said. 'Very important heroin. Exhibit Two for the People versus McDonald.'

He could see the look of malicious glee on Richards' face as the implication of what he'd been involved in dawned on Ed. It was evidence from the McDonald case.

The most important case of the year was in shreds; his own involvement in the investigation was going to be suspect as well. And he'd just walked in and taken it, so naturally without any pretence, his signature was on the documents. It was going to look even more damning now. It was going to look like he'd sold out, just as Eve thought. There was no way anyone could think otherwise, not even Ironside.

 _Ironside_ … the name sent another, more unpleasant, wave of nausea though him. The Chief was never going to believe that he'd not been bought by McDonald. He wouldn't have believed it himself if he'd seen the evidence from the outside. He put his hand across his forehead, and closed his eyes for a moment. He could feel the light trickle of blood across his aching temple

'Oh, shit,' he murmured.

'How right you are, Sergeant Brown,' said Richards triumphantly. 'Even if the Chief does find you, he'll have to throw the book at you.'

Richards handed him the phone.

'So just to make sure, you're going to call him,' he said. 'Call the Chief. Right now. The ransom for this junk is two million dollars by four on Wednesday morning. No compromise, no negotiation. You will call again to tell them the drop.'

'That's all?'

'You'd better make it sound good,' said Richards. He took a small glance at Lonnie who was grinning like the monster he undoubtedly was. He was just aching for a chance to get to Eve. Ed shuddered.

'You _understand_ what happens if you don't,' asked Richards.

Ed understood all too well. _What else could he do?_

So he picked up the phone and dialled the Chief's number.

* * *


	6. The Actions Of An Innocent Man

The Actions Of An Innocent Man

After speaking to Ed, the first thing Ironside did was contact the Commissioner. Regardless of his other priorities, he had to keep Dennis informed of what was going on. Having to tell his own superior that Sergeant Brown had just demanded a large fortune in ransom money was one of the worst jobs he'd ever had to do. But Dennis took it surprisingly well, all things considered.

After the stunned silence, and then the angry barrage of questions, the Commissioner sounded almost reasonable.

'Two million dollars is not an easy sum to get hold of at short notice, Bob,' said Randall coldly. 'Is there any way…?'

'No,' replied Ironside. 'If we want that evidence back we'll have to be prepared to pay for it.'

There was a pause, and Ironside could just imagine the Commissioner's expression and was grateful this particular confrontation was taking place over the telephone.

'What happened to no-deal-Ironside?' said Randall.

'If we don't play, it _will_ be destroyed, I'm sure.'

'Bob, is there something you're not telling me?'

Ironside hesitated, not sure how to answer that question. There were a number of things he hadn't told the Commissioner, some of them he wasn't even sure of himself. He had stuck to the facts, however unpleasant and incriminating they had been.

'Just gather the money,' he said. 'And have it ready in good time, Dennis, at least that way we will have one ace to play, if the opportunity arises.'

'Alright Bob,' said Dennis crossly. 'But if this goes wrong, you're going to be the one explaining it to the Mayor.'

That call over, Ironside sat by his desk, trying to clear his head and think.

The initial shock was starting to wear off, leaving a certain level of numbness. It was almost too much to comprehend, in such a short space of time. How do you keep on trusting and believing when faced with such overpowering evidence? But slowly, his confidence was returning. He was rightly proud of his record with the police, and if anyone could get this mess sorted out and get to the truth, it was him. And he was _going_ to get to the bottom of it. He owed it to the Commissioner. And he owed it to Ed, to whatever level he was involved.

'Chief?' said Mark. 'Chief, are you ok?'

Ironside nodded.

'You sure? I would have expected you to be causing an earthquake,' admitted Mark.

'Can't a man have some serene contemplation?' snapped Ironside.

Mark stared at him.

'Serene contemplation? At a time like this?'

'Is there any better time?'

'Well, I don't see how it's going to help Ed.'

Ironside gave him a sour look.

'I was _trying_ to think!'

Mark nodded, and kept quiet, except for offering him a cup of that muck he alleged was coffee.

After a few minutes of serene but fruitless contemplation, Carl Reese appeared at the door and bustled into the office, holding a tape recorder in his hand.

'Just got this from the exchange,' he said. 'They didn't get a trace on the call, too short, but it's likely to have been from the downtown area. Here's a copy.'

Ironside took the machine without much enthusiasm, but he was grateful to Carl for bringing it up without needing to be told. It was something that Ed would have done too. That thought made him frown more deeply. He was more aware than before of how empty the office was and how every small sound seemed to echo. Ed and Eve should have been there, working, helping, doing their jobs instead of being…

Ironside stopped himself. That was not going to help. With a thump, he put the tape recorder on the desk in front of him, and played back the conversation he and Ed had had less than half an hour before.

' _Hello Chief.'_

_'Ed…'_

' _I know you're going to have this conversation recorded, so there's no need for you to ask any questions. Do you understand?'_

' _Then get on with it!'_

' _The ransom for the safe return of the evidence is two million dollars. Do you understand?'_

_'That's quite a sum for such a small amount of evidence!'_

' _Isn't it worth it?'_

_'And what about you?… Alright, what about Eve?'_

' _What about Eve?'_

' _Is she alright?'_

' _You really think I'd let anything happen to her?'_

' _Ed, what…'_

' _Shut up and listen! Get the money by four o'clock Wednesday morning. I'll contact you once more about the drop.'_

' _No warnings about trying to find you?'_

_'You won't.'_

' _And what if we don't want to pay?'_

' _Don't fuck around, Chief! The McDonald case is going to collapse without it. You know that. I know that. Do you understand? That gives you exactly thirty-one hours to get the money or McDonald walks_ _out of the lock-up a free man! You really going to risk that? … Well?_

' _No. No, I'm not going to risk it. Neither is the Commissioner.'_

' _Fine. Then we understand each other.'_

The whole exchange had taken less than two minutes. Carl looked at the Chief, horrified by what he had just heard.

Hearing it again brought a whole lot of unpleasant emotions to the surface for Ironside. There was too much to react to, so he made a conscious decision not to react. He had to treat this case just like any other. He looked between the other two men.

'Ok then, gentlemen, what do we know?' he saw the look on Mark's face and was compelled to add: 'We need to remember the facts _._ We need to _stick_ to the facts.'

Both men nodded, but neither spoke.

'Fact,' Ironside said. 'Ed Brown had been seen talking with another man at the Bayside Motel. Fact, Ed drove to the Property Office and took ten keys of heroin out of there with a forged order.' Carl cast an anxious glance at the tape recorder on the table.

'And Ed's burned out car was found in the warehouse district,' said Carl. 'And whatever clues or evidence that were left in it have gone up in smoke.'

Ironside nodded.

'Fact,' he said. 'Ed vanished, only to call a few hours later to demand a huge ransom for the safe return of vital evidence.' He gestured at the tape machine. 'I don't think there could be many people that would argue that that wasn't Ed Brown.'

'It sounded like Ed to me,' said Mark.

'And me,' added Carl.

'We'll get a voice print just the same, but I'm convinced.'

'When you put it like that, there doesn't seem like much of a way out,' murmured Carl. Ironside stared him into silence.

'All right then,' said the Chief. 'Where does that leave us? What conclusions can we draw?'

'That Ed was forced into this,' said Mark firmly. 'By person or _persons_ unknown.'

'Or…?' asked Ironside.

'Or he's been brought off by McDonald,' said Carl with a despondent sigh.

'As far as I can see, those are the only two possibilities,' agreed the Chief.

There was no need for Ironside to ask which option Mark and Carl favoured, in spite of Ed's apparent betrayal, and the telephone call.

'What do you think Chief?' said Carl. 'C'mon, it's time to level with me here.'

'You don't need to _ask_ what my personal feelings are,' snapped Ironside gruffly.

'What about as a policeman? What about your instinct? C'mon Chief!'

What did he _really_ think? What did his instinct tell him? Could he really separate his personal feelings for a man who was one of his closest friends from the cold-hearted logic that was necessary? For a few seconds, he closed his eyes.

'We are just seeing what we've been _shown_ ,' he started, his voice slowly rising in anger as he spoke. 'We are seeing what we are supposed to see. We are being distracted from asking the right questions. We've been left to chase behind, picking up the scraps from what happened, far too late to make any difference!'

'So we have to start asking the right questions,' said Mark.

'Exactly.'

'Care to start?' said Carl.

Ironside smiled without mirth.

'Why?'

Carl and Mark glanced at each other.

'Is that it, Chief?' asked Mark. 'Why?'

'If we're right, and Ed has been forced into this, we need to know why. Why would he have gone along with any plan of this sort? He's a good man, he's a good cop, he's observant, smart. He knows what he's doing, and he's got to know what this will do to his reputation, he's got to know he's looking at a fifteen to twenty year stretch. And yet he leaves evidence around like it's Christmas!'

'So someone threatened him,' suggested Carl. 'Maybe even blackmailed him.'

Ironside nodded. While he wasn't known for taking unnecessary risks, Ed wasn't the sort of man to be threatened into doing something he didn't want to do by anything _trivial_. The answer grated at the back of his mind. It had been there all the time. _Eve_ …

That old lady was right about one thing; Ed was a gentleman, even if he was a cop too. He would never willingly put Eve in danger. And Ed knew how Ironside felt about her, he'd been there when they'd first met. Eve was effectively his partner on the force. He worked with her every day and they had an excellent rapport and a close friendship. Ironside thought back to the brief telephone conversation he'd had with Ed.

' _What about Eve? Is she alright?'_

' _You really think I'd let anything happen to her?'_

Ed _wouldn't_ let anything happen to her. That was the point.

'So how would you get Ed Brown to do something he didn't want to do?' Ironside asked suddenly, looking at Mark.

'I don't know, Chief. Do I get three guesses?'

Ironside ignored the futile attempt to lighten the tense atmosphere in the office.

'Query. If I put a gun to Sergeant Brown's head and told him to destroy one of the most important cases we've brought to trial in the past decade, would he do it?'

Mark didn't hesitate.

'C'mon on, Chief, this is Ed Brown we're talking about,' he said firmly. 'Of course not!'

'And that's always been the stumbling block. Ed wouldn't be threatened into this. It's too big and he knows it.'

'Ok.'

'But what if you put a gun to Eve's head, and said the same thing…?' Ironside let the question trail off.

There was a long pause. Eventually Mark said:

'He'd do it.'

It wasn't a pleasant scenario. Ironside tried to imagine what he himself would do. If someone put a gun to Eve's head and told him to break all the rules, he would do it without a second thought, even if there were only the smallest of chances of keeping her alive. And he knew Ed would do the same. Ironside reached out to the recorder, rewound it, listened once more to the conversation with his missing Sergeant, right up to the point where Ironside had mentioned Eve.

' _You really think I'd let anything happen to her?'_

Ironside snapped the recorder off with a sharp click. No, Ed wouldn't let anything happen to her. That was the whole point. He'd been absurdly slow in understanding.

'You think whoever it was threatened Eve?' Sanger asked.

Ironside nodded. Instinctively, he knew he was right about this.

'But we can't prove it,' Mark reminded him.

'Not _yet_!' Ironside said firmly. 'But it's an excellent place to start. So let's take this through again.'

'Ok.'

'Fact. Ed was seen with another man, they talked,' said Ironside. 'Now let's assume Eve was threatened, and Ed believed that _threat_ was real.'

'Ok.'

'So, they take Ed to Property, tell him to go in, get the box number with the forged Order, and get back.'

'But what's to stop him telling the cops inside?' said Mark.

'Eve's still in the car, along with their kidnapper,' added Carl. 'Would he risk it?'

'But he didn't even try,' said Mark. 'And this is evidence for the McDonald Case we're talking about!'

'Maybe he did try, but Johnston didn't notice.'

'But still,' said Mark. 'It's a big risk for the kidnapper, letting Ed walk around, even if he does have Eve.'

Ironside had to agree. That was the weakest part of the whole hypothesis. This had been carefully planned, that was obvious. Whoever it was wasn't going to take that sort of risk without a cast-iron guarantee.

'Mark, get me that requisition order. The file's there.' He pointed.

Sanger handed it over, and Ironside studied the paper carefully. There was something that he was missing. He almost had it. There was something here that would help them, he knew it. Ironside _had_ to regain the advantage. And somewhere on that piece of paper was part of the answer, he was sure.

'What are you looking for, Chief?' asked Reese. There's nothing there. It's all filled out correctly too.'

 _That's it._ He handed the paper to Carl.

'What do you see?'

'Just the box number. And your signature, sorry, forged signature.'

'Exactly. There's no mention of McDonald, no mention of heroin. Only numbers. If Ed had been given this piece of paper by someone then he would have no idea what he was collecting.'

'Chief? What are you driving at?' Mark asked, sounding worried.

Ironside looked back at the paper, and the numbers. Ed _couldn't_ know what they meant. Only a Property Officer would know.

'Carl! Get me Johnston! _Now_!'

Carl grabbed the phone, and started dialling.

'What's wrong Chief?' asked Mark. 'What do you want with Johnston?'

'You need the box number for the McDonald evidence. Ed wouldn't have known the box number.'

'Johnston? You think…?'

'I'm flamin' well going to find out!'

' _Johnston_?' repeated Mark.

'And,' added Ironside, 'that would explain why Ed didn't try to make contact. If he was warned that Johnston knew, he wouldn't have dared, not with Eve in the car.'

'He could have left a message, or tried.'

'But he didn't have a pen.'

'We've only got Johnston's word for that,' Mark reminded him.

'That's another reason to find him.'

Ironside glanced up at Carl's face. The expression didn't fill him with confidence. Carl looked back, and put his hand over the mouthpiece.

'Johnston's gone for the day. I'm getting a black-and-white to check out his home. Yes…?' There was the muffled sound of a voice, and Ironside waited. 'There's one in the area,' Carl told Ironside. 'But it will take a few minutes.'

'Tell them to bring him in, bring him right _here_!'

'Yes Chief,' said Carl. 'Yes, bring him in to the Chief's office. Now!'

There was another, long babbling of speech from the other end.

'Mark?' said Ironside. 'Get on the other phone. Get the Records Office. I want Johnston's file over here.'

'Sure, Chief.'

As the calls were being made, Ironside went back over his logic. It all made sense. With Eve's life in the balance, Ed couldn't risk a mistake, and the only way the kidnappers could be sure that Ed would play it straight was if Johnston was in on it too.

But that still didn't answer his first question, _why_? Why use Ed and Eve? Why play this elaborate game, just to get the drugs out, there were easier ways to get rid of evidence, especially if you have a Property Officer on the payroll. Why go to all the trouble?

Ironside was now more convinced than every that Ed had been set up for some reason. But who would have a big enough grudge against Ed to do this to him? It's not just using him to gain access to Property, but twisting the knife, getting him to do all the dirty work and leaving enough evidence to send him to Q for the next twenty years.

Mark put the phone down, and went to find some more coffee. Ironside watched Carl as he waited on the telephone, a sudden fear inside him. This was all so cleverly and thoroughly planned. And there was always the possibility that he was still playing catch up with whoever planned this. There was always the possibility that he was too late.

Carl still had the phone to his ear, waiting, and suddenly there was another burst of speech. Carl's face fell, and Ironside knew exactly what had happened. After Reese put the phone down, he turned to Ironside.

'I'm sorry, Chief. We were too late.'

'Johnston's dead,' said Ironside. It was not a question, it was a statement.

Carl nodded.

'Shot in the back of the head. Looks like it was a thirty eight.'

Of course it was; that was the standard police issue gun, the kind Ed always carried, expect for a brief flirtation with that flamin' 357 Magnum. It wasn't just conspiracy, or theft, or blackmail. It was now murder as well. It wasn't just the rest of his life in Q, now it was the gas chamber.

'Did you find the gun?'

'Yeah, one was left at the scene, and it had recently been fired. Ballistics will have to make a match though.'

Ironside was left asking questions that he already guessed the answers to.

'It's Ed's gun, isn't it?'

Reece shrugged.

'They're checking the serial number right now.'

Ironside hit he table hard in anger, making both other men jump back. Again he was too late. This infernal game of catch up was going to have to stop.

'Get me everything you have on Johnston, Carl. Bank details, friends, contacts, the works. I don't care how many favours you have to call in, or how you do it, just _do_ it! Get it done ten minutes ago!'

'Sure, Chief!' called Reece, already heading for the door.

* * *

A sandwich appeared under his nose.

'I'm not hungry Mark. I'm working.'

'You haven't eaten for six hours.

'I've gone for longer with no food,' Ironside replied, pushing the plate away. 'I'm working.'

On the table in front of him was Johnston's file, along with a ballistics report, confirming that it was indeed Ed's gun that had been used to kill Johnston, though they hadn't found any fingerprints on it, only smudges.

Ironside leaned forward, ignoring Mark's muttered complaint, and ran the recorder back to the beginning again, to listen to the phone conversation again. Sometime over the past few hours, he'd lost count of how many times he'd heard it.

'Not again, Chief, please,' said Mark. 'I'm going to be hearing it in my sleep.'

'I'll play it again and again as often as I like!' said Ironside. 'Until I break the flamin' machine! And if you don't _like_ it, Mr Sanger…'

'I can leave, I know!' finished Mark. But he didn't, all he did was take the sandwich back to the kitchen area.

Ironside could sympathise with his friend, hearing Ed's voice over and over was chipping away at his belief. But apart from the disheartening feeling inside, Ironside was also growing convinced that were was something important in what Ed had said to him. He just couldn't figure out what it was. He could repeat the conversation word for word, every pause and every inflection. But he just couldn't get what was wrong with it.

Carl appeared at the door, holding a piece of paper. It was the sketch of the man Mrs Whittaker had seen with Ed.

'Not much, I'm afraid, Chief,' he said, handing it over. 'She's not a good witness.'

Ironside felt it looked familiar, but there was so little detail of which Mrs Whittaker could be sure, that it left them with very little to go on.

'Maybe you can get through to him,' said Mark coming over to stand next to Reese. 'He needs to eat something.'

'I'm not getting involved,' said Carl. 'I don't get paid enough for that.'

'Look, Chief,' said Mark. 'Case or no case, you've got to eat something. Do you understand?'

Ironside whipped around to face Mark.

' _What_ did you say?'

'You have to eat something,'

'No, you said: "do you understand"?'

Mark looked confused, but suddenly Ironside knew what had been bothering him.

'So?' Mark said.

'Listen!' said the Chief. 'And listen carefully.'

Ironside played back the recording once more.

' _Hello, Chief.'_

_'Ed…'_

' _I know you're going to have this conversation recorded, so there's no need for you to ask any questions. Do you understand?'_

' _Then get on with it!'_

' _The ransom for the safe return of the evidence is two million dollars. Do you understand?'_

_'That's quite a sum for such a small amount of evidence!'_

' _Isn't it worth it?'_

_'And what about you?… Alright, what about Eve?'_

' _What about Eve?'_

' _Is she alright?'_

' _You really think I'd let anything happen to her?'_

' _Ed, what…'_

' _Shut up and listen! Get the money by four o'clock Wednesday morning. I'll contact you once more about the drop.'_

' _No warnings about trying to find you?'_

_'You won't.'_

' _And what if we don't want to pay?'_

' _Don't fuck around, Chief! The McDonald case is going to collapse without it. You know that. I know that. Do you understand? That gives you exactly thirty-one hours to get the money or McDonald walks out of the lock-up a free man! You really going to risk that? … Well?_

' _No. No, I'm not going to risk it. Neither is the Commissioner.'_

' _Fine. Then we understand each other.'_

'Do you understand,' said Ironside. 'He said that exact phrase three times, and used the word "understand" at the very end as well.'

'Ok,' conceded Carl, 'so that's not a phrase Ed uses very often in _normal_ circumstances, but…'

'Exactly! These are not normal circumstances. And he's doing what Mark just did. He's mimicking someone else, who _does_ use that phrase.'

Mark thought about that for a moment, then he shook his head.

'So the kidnapper uses the word _understand_ a lot? I'm not sure that helps us, Chief.'

But Ironside had heard the phrase before. It was a speech tag for someone he knew… Again, he picked up one of the papers on his desk, this time it was Johnston's personnel file from Records. He flicked through to near the end.

'Johnston wasn't always with Property,' said Ironside. 'He used to work in Narco until he was injured in a gunfight. This gunfight.' Ironside pointed.

'Anthony Richards?' Mark shook his head again. 'Never heard of him.'

' _Richards_?' said Reese fearfully.

'Exactly, he was killed in the same gunfight that Johnston took the bullet.'

'But…'

'Richards was also always very keen on _understanding,_ it was one of his favourite things after making money and hurting people. And guess what was his favourite way of getting rid of evidence?'

'Chief… It _can't_ be Richards,' said Carl. 'He's dead for one thing.'

Ironside had never hoped more fervently that he was wrong. But it made sense; goddamn perfect sense. _Who would have a big enough grudge against Ed to do this to him?_ They had been looking in the wrong place. It wasn't Ed, or Eve. It was him!

'Am I missing something?' asked Mark. 'Just who was this Richards cat?'

'If you called him a _cat_ to his face, he would string you up like one,' said Reese. 'He was a big name a few years ago, big with the Syndicate. Had his own brother murdered for turning state's evidence.'

'Get the Richards file from records,' Ironside said to Reese. Again, Carl picked up the phone.

' _Tony R_ ,' Ironside said quietly. 'So Anthony Richards didn't die.'

'But what's this Richards got to do with Ed?' asked Mark.

'It's not Ed that he's concerned about,' Ironside replied in a grim tone. 'Guess who helped bring him down?'

'I don't need to guess, do I?' said Mark. 'I'm looking at him!'

'Richards' brother Tom was convinced to bargain,' said Ironside. 'That was our big break. And do you need to be told who did the convincing?'

'You,' said Mark, his tone now more resigned.

'Yes. I was there from start to finish. It was a big case Mark, and it didn't end well.'

Mark looked at Carl, who didn't hold his gaze, then back to Ironside.

'What do you mean exactly by _didn't end well_?'

'It ended in a bloodbath,' the Chief said. 'Tony R never forgave Tom for betraying the family. He had him gunned down, and he bled to death on a side street. It got worse after that. Tony was tracked to a warehouse. There was a gunfight then the whole place went up. Three officers died, two innocent civilians, two of Tony's henchmen. And Tony himself was supposed to have been killed.'

Mark was silent for a few moments.

'And it started with a _betrayal_?' he said slowly. 'You think this whole show is a taste of your own medicine, maybe?'

'I would expect nothing less from Tony R,' said Ironside heavily. 'In fact, I would _expect_ a whole lot more.'

'What are we going to do?' said Mark. 'We have to prove it was him, and that might be difficult since everyone thinks he's dead.'

'We've got to find a lead, Tony R was good, but he was not infallible. We need to find every single scrap of information about him or his contacts. Get something that links him to Johnston. We've got to find Ed and Eve before this gets worse.'

'Worse?' asked Carl.

Ironside nodded.

Mark stared at him. Carl stared at him. The Chief knew that if they had been here, Ed and Eve would have been staring at him too. Inside, he felt a sharp pang of loss; he missed them. 'Well, what are you two waiting for?'

Mark took a rueful glance at Reese.

'I'll start with some coffee. Looks like it's going to be a long night.'

* * *


	7. Life Imitating Life

Life Imitating Life

If there ever was a moment that Ed wanted to give up, it was now. That phone call, coming so soon after the conversation with Eve had been almost enough to tip him over the edge to despair.

His head hurt and he still felt waves of nausea rise up in the back of his throat every time he moved, but fortunately, he hadn't eaten anything for hours, Mrs Witticker's dry sponge cake was just a dim memory. His hands had been cuffed once more, in front of him this time, just as tightly as before and he sat on the chair staring at the phone he'd just used to call Ironside.

Beside him, Richards and Lonnie were talking about nothing much, like cards and money. Ed forced himself to listen, though he wasn't sure what it would achieve. Though he had done as Richards had instructed and told the Chief he would call again, he doubted very much if that would happen. The thought of that phone call made him feel sick. He knew the Chief had been pushing, trying to get more answers and to try and keep him on the phone so they could trace the call. And the Chief had sure sounded convinced that Ed was on the level, and had betrayed him.

He forced himself to go over what he had said. For Ironside, and anyone else hearing that call, it was as good as a signed confession of his guilt. He'd demanded a ransom, a very substantial ransom, as well. That, along with his signature on the order would be enough to send him down. He didn't want to believe that the Chief would think that of him, but there wasn't anything in his favour at the moment, Richards had made damn sure of that.

Still, the thought that Ironside could think he could be on the take hurt much, much more than he expected it too. He could imagine Richards twisting words for Eve's benefit, and of course there was his own actions. He couldn't blame her. And it wouldn't be any different with the Chief. All he had was the overwhelming evidence of his guilt. Under the circumstances, what else was the Chief going to think?

Not so long ago, it had been the other way round, Ironside had been framed as the inside man on the Syndicate payroll. And that whole episode still stung too. Out in the cold, Ed hadn't been told of Ironside's plan to clear himself, and while it _was_ the correct decision, it had still hurt that he wasn't trusted.

Ed leaned forward slowly to rest his forehead on his hands. Having to talk to Ironside like that had been a nightmare, knowing that if he said the wrong thing, Eve would suffer. Though the Chief was only doing his job, Ed was still angry at the man for trying to push so hard, and trying to get answers that he didn't dare give. Ed had never been on the receiving end of Ironside's interrogation technique before and it was _not_ a pleasant experience.

Worse, Ed knew that Ironside was right to do it. And Ed knew he had to push too, to try and get some useful information, or try and get some opportunities. But at that moment he could barely think straight, and all he wanted to do was close his eyes and let himself slip away to oblivion.

That was the very _last_ thing he could afford to do at the moment, but he struggled to resist the temptation to close his eyes. He didn't need medical training to know that the most likely explanation for his thumping headache and blurred vision was a concussion. Instead of helping, all that the encounter with Eve had done was to weaken his position even further. How could he have been so stupid as to let himself be walked into that one? He should have known better.

Ed suddenly realised that Richards and Lonnie had stopped talking, so he looked around at them. The two men looked back, with cold, pitiless expressions. Ed shivered.

Richards glanced at Lonnie.

'It's time we got set up through there,' Richards said. 'I would rather not be caught unprepared, I know how tricky Ironside can be. Put him in with the girl.'

Ed's hope suddenly rose. He'd been aching for a chance to see Eve, but he didn't dare ask, especially after what happened last time, fearing that Richards might see it as non-cooperation, and react accordingly.

'But Mr Richards,' said Lonnie in a loud, conspiratorial whisper, 'what if they… _talk_?'

Richards smiled at Ed and shrugged. Once more, Ed was struck by the utter indifference of that man, could nothing upset him? Everything was going according to his plan, and Ed was at a loss as to how to upset that plan without endangering Eve.

'So they talk?' said Richards. 'So what? It's not like they can do anything about it. Not _now_. And we can't leave him out here.'

Lonnie frowned, but Richards was not going to be argued with. Once again, it was perfectly clear who was in charge.

'I can't get all this ready on my own,' said Richards. 'Put him in and get going!'

Lonnie stomped over to Ed, circling around behind him. He stopped, standing very close to Ed's back, and Ed could hear him breathe. There was movement by the side of his head, as Lonnie reached out to touch the gash on Ed's temple. The wound was pressed open to let more blood flow out and Ed hissed in pain, seeing flecks of light behind his eyes and tried to turn his head away. He felt a line of blood trickle over his cheek.

' _Lonnie_!'

At the word, Lonnie abruptly hauled Ed standing. Once again, Ed was sorely tempted to try and knock the man off his feet, but he would be at a serious disadvantage in his current condition. Besides, Richards was close by, the gun back in his hand. There was no doubt in Ed's mind that Richards would do whatever he had to, if anything went wrong.

'Get over to the door and open it,' Lonnie said.

Ed obeyed, sliding the bolts and opening the door slowly. He stepped forward and was suddenly pushed inside. The door slammed quickly behind him with a loud, metallic thud that made him flinch as it screeched through his head.

'Ed!' He had barely staggered forward when Eve barrelled into him, engulfing him in a fierce hug. 'Oh, Ed!'

It was darker in this room, with less light coming in through the narrow window, and his pounding headache felt a little better away from the brighter light of the other room.

'Hey, hey, Eve, it's ok.'

He tried to reach out to hold her back, but with his hands fastened together, it didn't work. He felt Eve take his hand and give the cuffs a small tug. He gave another hiss of pain.

'Oh, Ed!' she said again.

The room was swaying slightly, and Ed needed to sit down. The single ledge in the corner looked even less comfortable than the chair in the outer office, so instead Ed leaned against a wall and slid down to the floor, resting his head back. Eve sat down close to him.

'Ed, I'm so glad you're ok. I've been so worried. I'm so sorry.'

'It's ok, Eve. It's not your fault.'

'You've got to tell me what's going on,' she said. 'Please.'

He closed his eyes briefly, dreading having to tell her about Lonnie. He could hear the words Richards had used every time he looked at her. Sickness welled up inside him once more, this time not cause by his headache.

'That's Tony R,' Eve asked. 'Isn't it? Anthony Richards? The one the Chief's mentioned.' Ed nodded, though the motion made him feel worse. 'And he's out to get the Chief? Through us?'

'Yes,' whispered Ed. He looked down at the floor, away from Eve, not wanting to look her in the eye as she spoke.

'Why did you help him? Tell me. What was your price?'

Ed hated that phrase and he winced. He didn't answer, but Eve was relentless in her logic.

'You don't have to say anything, Ed, I can take a good guess. It's me, isn't it? That was your price, it's not money, it's me.'

'Eve…'

Ed couldn't say any more, he just tightened the grip on her hand.

'They threatened me, and you couldn't say no,' she said.

When she put it like that, it sounded so simple. He didn't want to elaborate, so he let the explanation stand at that.

'I'm sorry I shouted at you. I'm sorry I provoked him and you got hurt.' She reached up to touch the cut on the side of his temple where he'd hit the ledge. Though her touch was far more gentle than Lonnie's had been, that whole side of his head felt like one big bruise and any pressure made him feel worse.

Ed closed his eyes again, hoping that when he opened them he would wake up from this nightmare. In the dark peace of the safe-room, his awareness briefly faded. But suddenly it crossed his mind that Richards was beginning to lose interest in them, now that he had served his purpose and spoken to the Chief. Maybe that was why he'd let him talk to Eve _now_. And that might mean this whole bad trip was almost over. Or it might mean that they had just outlived their usefulness. Either way, it didn't look good. That thought made him force his eyes open again.

'What are we going to do?' Eve asked after a while. 'Can't you even get out of those handcuffs?'

'No.'

'Why not? Can't you pick a lock?'

'I can't pick a lock with just air,' he said with a sigh. 'Not even Mark could do that.'

'Well, what about the ledge, the window? We've got to try and get out of here. We can't just sit around.'

'You've tried to move them yourself, haven't you? Richards wouldn't be stupid enough to give us a chance. You must've tried to get out, but it's all locked down tighter than a drum.'

'Yes, but they're fixed, maybe you could…'

Ed didn't move.

'Ed, you're not even going to try?' Eve asked in surprise. 'You're not going to try _anything_?'

How could he take that risk? Was it even a risk, now, wasn't it more like a dead certainty? The longer he spent around Richards, the more convinced he'd grown that Richards would do exactly what he'd threatened, and worse, he'd _enjoy_ it. He wouldn't have left any way out.

'No. I'm not going to do anything.'

'Why not? Because they'll kill me if anything goes wrong?' She still sounded incredulous. 'Ed, there are other…'

'Because they won't kill you,' he whispered.

He heard a choked gasp and felt the shudder go through her. It was a long time before she spoke again.

'Lonnie,' she said, her voice full of undisguised disgust.

'Yes.'

She nodded, shaking, but didn't say anything else for a few moments. He couldn't fail to be impressed by the way she was holding this together. There were no tears, no hysterics. She was scared, scared to death, but she wasn't going to fall to pieces.

'I know,' she said quietly. 'I think I've known from the first moment, but I just didn't want to…' she stopped for a few moments, her voice shaking. 'Oh, Ed! I'm so sorry.'

'You don't have to be sorry. I can't take that chance, Eve.'

He couldn't tell her that it wasn't a chance anymore. He knew Richards would do exactly as he threatened, sooner or later; all Ed could do was try to delay the inevitable any way he could. They stayed side by side in silence for a long time, until Eve spoke again.

'What do you think the Chief's going to do?'

'He'll probably arrest me,' said Ed with a mirthless laugh.

'That's not what I meant.'

'But I did a pretty convincing job.'

'He's not stupid, he'd never believe you did this on your own.'

'You sure about that?' Ed asked bitterly. ' _You_ thought I had a price.'

It wasn't in his nature to be so negative or so cutting, but his head was killing him, he was tired and sick and the tension inside him felt so raw that he couldn't help himself. But Eve wasn't angry.

'If it was the other way round, would you believe this of him?' she asked gently.

It was a pointless question, they had already gone through something similar when the assistant District Attorney had tried to frame the Chief. In the face of overwhelming evidence, and the Chief's own inferred admission of guilt, Ed still hadn't believed Ironside was on the take. Ultimately, his faith in his boss had been proved correct.

For the first time in the conversation, Ed looked at Eve. Even in the dim light, he could tell there were tears in her eyes.

'He'll believe in you,' Eve said. 'He'll come after us. He's probably already on his way. No one's ever got the better of him.'

But instead of feeling comforted by that thought, Ed felt worse.

'Ed? He'll come after us. That's good, isn't it?'

'I think that's what Richards wants. If Richards has gone to all this trouble to get us to this, he'll want the Chief at the end too. You know he will.'

Eve let out a despondent sigh, looking away.

'Well, what are we going to do, Ed?'

'I don't know.'

They were quiet again for a short while, then she leaned forward and placed a small kiss on his cheek.

'What ever happens, thank you,' Eve whispered. 'I might not get the chance to say that again.'

She leaned closer against him, and Ed lifted his cuffed hands and awkwardly slipped his arm around her shoulders, letting her rest against him. They had nothing to do now but wait. At last, he couldn't struggle any longer and his eyes flickered shut. But even so, he didn't sleep, now it was the one thing he wanted to do more than anything else.

Eve slept, Ed could hear her breathing grow slow and steady, but he could only doze fitfully through the night. Every time he did almost sleep, he jerked awake with his mind filled with blood-soaked, violent images of rape, mutilation and murder. His head was killing him, his wrists and hands had gone from painful to achingly numb, as had is right arm where Eve was leaning on it. But he didn't want to wake her up to this nightmare.

It was the longest night he had ever spent, tired out and alone, and though it was always warm in California, Ed grew colder as the night changed into morning. But eventually, the tiny square of the outside he could see through the window grew lighter. He could just make out the time on his watch. It was seven in the morning. The Chief had exactly twenty-one hours to get two million dollars and get it to Richards.

And, as he knew from the bitter experience of the _past_ day, a lot could go wrong in so short a time. There was no guarantee either he or Eve would still be alive by the end of it.

Ed couldn't stop himself wondering what the Chief was doing, but he couldn't even guess. And after that phone call…

Ed shuddered; he'd deliberately tried not to dwell on it or any of the details, and he certainly would never be able to repeat it to Eve, if she'd asked. But he knew the consequences of his actions. Working with the Chief was his dream job, though it wasn't without its blood, sweat and tears. He was an immeasurably better policeman than he would have been without Ironside. He had been so proud to be on Ironside's staff and work with one of the most respected and admired policemen in the country.

And yet, over the past day, he'd effectively stabbed the Chief in the back and destroyed years of hard work and a valued friendship. That _phone call_ … What in heaven's name had possessed him to swear at the Chief? No one swore at Ironside, and kept their badge. Even if they all got through to the end of the day, the Chief was going to have him on the carpet for that and he would be pounding the beat from now until retirement.

It struck him then that keeping his badge was the last thing he should be worrying about, considering the circumstances. On the evidence he'd left lying around over the past day, he was looking at two decades or more in Q. And life in San Quentin for a disgraced policeman was not a pleasant prospect.

But it didn't matter. Whatever the personal cost, he was going to keep Eve safe for as long as he could. He owed Eve that. He owed the Chief that as well.

At last, after hours of waiting, there was the sound of scraping metal outside the door, and Ed tensed. Eve must have felt him move, and she woke suddenly. The door opened, and there stood Lonnie, complete with gun, Anthony Richards standing in the background, at a safe distance from the doorway. Lonnie looked at the pair, entangled on the floor and a jealous glare crossed his face.

'Get up, _pig_!' he said, pointing the gun at Ed's face. 'Get your hands off her!'

Slowly, Ed lifted his arm up from Eve's shoulders and stood. He had no idea it would be so difficult to stand up straight, the blood rushed from his head and he almost fainted. He had to lean against the wall to keep steady. Eve half-rose as well, wanting to help him.

'It's not your turn yet, blondie,' said Lonnie with an unpleasant smile. 'Just him this time. C'mon on, _pig_! Move!'

Ed took another step forward, keeping his hand on the wall, and was almost overcome by the strong smell of gasoline. They were going to burn this place too, that was obvious. There would be no evidence left behind again for the Chief to find.

'You don't want to be around here when it goes, Brown,' Lonnie said, jerking his gun towards the door. ' _Come on_!'

Ed staggered forward, the sudden change in brightness hurting his eyes. The smell of gasoline was almost overwhelming and he couldn't walk straight. Richards came over, and roughly turned his face towards the light. Ed flinched.

'Help me get him out to the car,' said Richards in an impatient tone. 'Take his arm, or he'll most likely walk into a wall.'

Gun pressed against the small of his back, Ed was frogmarched forward by Lonnie and Richards. The warehouse had been filled with gasoline, the floor by the doorway was slick with the stuff. He saw that there were new boxes along one side, but didn't register many more details.

Lonnie opened the door, and Ed saw a car waiting for them, the same car as they'd used the day before to get here. In the fresher air, away from the stink of fuel, Ed felt slightly better, and he leaned against the back door, grateful for the support. He closed his eyes.

At his side, he knew Richards was waiting calmly for Lonnie to return. Ed jerked his head up suddenly. He'd missed something. Lonnie had gone to get Eve. Lonnie and Eve, together in one place, that wasn't good.

He pushed himself up, but Richards caught his arm.

'Lonnie does as I tell him, remember,' said Richards. 'You don't need to worry about her _this time_.'

A moment later, Lonnie came thundering out of the door, but with no Eve.

'What the _hell_ are you doing?' demanded Richards.

'They're turning down the street. Right now!'

'What? Who?'

'The _van_!'

The look on Richards' face was frightening. For all the dispassionate contempt he had shown over the past day, he was suddenly furious, his face contorted with such ferocity and anger that Ed felt afraid.

'Get him in the car,' Richards told Lonnie. 'We'll have to cut and run.'

Richards reached into his pocket and pulled out a bronze lighter.

 _Eve_! Eve was still inside. They were going to leave Eve inside and torch the building!

Three things happened almost simultaneously. Ed cried out her name and stepped away from the car, intending to get to Eve. Then Lonnie kicked him across the back of his knees and he buckled, losing his balance and he toppled forward.

Through the thick fog of confusion, Ed still tried to struggle up. He had to get to Eve.

'We'll just have to make do with one,' Ed heard Richards say. A fraction of a second later, before Ed could move more than a few inches, something struck him across the back of his head and it all went black.

* * *


	8. Near Miss

Near Miss

It was a long shot.

It was such an absurd long shot that Ironside was sure it wouldn't pay off; but he couldn't let that stop him.

During the hard, relentless work of the previous few hours, he, Mark and Carl had uncovered only one other tenuous connection between Richards and Chuck Johnston, though it had taken them most of the night to find it. And with the trail at Johnston's house going cold, Ironside had decided to follow this one up personally, however unlikely it was to produce results.

There were a string of buildings in Johnston's name, all of them in very different places. Odd, and not very interesting _perhaps_ , except the fact that they had all been bought from a shady company years ago before it went bust. And the company had once belonged to Tony-R. And though Mark, and Carl, and even the Commissioner himself, had argued most reasonably that Richards was dead and cold in the grave, Ironside would not be persuaded from his hunch that that man was at the centre of this.

All the indicators pointed to Richards; Johnston, the _apparent_ betrayal of Ed, the car destroyed by fire, the use of the word "understand"… it was the only logical explanation that fitted all the meagre facts they had.

Even Richards' "death" itself could be explained. There were enough discrepancies regarding the fatal shooting, especially since the accuracy of Johnston's testimony was now in doubt, to convince Ironside that Richards might have gotten away before the fire had destroyed the building and all trace of his body. And fire was his trademark for hiding things.

Now they travelled through the city; Mark was driving the van, with Carl Reese in the front passenger seat. Neither man was in the mood for talking and both looked resolutely out of the windows as they drove. Carl and Mark had been up working on the case for most of the night, just like Ironside himself, only grabbing a couple of hours sleep where they could.

'It's likely we'll come up dry here,' Reese said at last. 'Like we have in the other three places.'

Ironside glared at him. That was exactly what he would have expected Ed to say in these circumstances, making sure that if he was wrong there was some sort of preparation to soften the blow. Ironside hated when Ed did that, he liked it even less now Carl had taken up the habit.

They turned onto a quiet cul-de-sac, and pulled up near the large, grey building at the far end. It seemed just like the other three buildings, deserted.

But as soon as the van stopped and the door opened, he smelt burning. Something was on fire. Looking carefully he could see a thin line of smoke leaking from one of the lower windows, winding up into the still air.

Ironside knew in that one moment his instinct had been right. Richards _was_ the one behind this. The door of the van suddenly slammed.

'Mark? Mark!'

But the man was already running towards the closest door in the burning building. He kicked it open and he vanished inside. Carl was set to follow, but Ironside stopped him.

'No Carl! Get round the other side,' he said. 'Check the other entrances.'

'But Mark?'

'Do it!'

Carl vanished off towards the far end of the street, down the road they had just driven along.

Ironside reached back inside the van, picked up his car-phone, calling for the fire department, and the ambulance and a whole lot of back-up. Within a few minutes this whole area would be covered with police.

But during those few minutes, all Ironside could do was wait.

Waiting was what a major part of his life was about now. He wasn't able to run anywhere, and he had never cursed the sniper before as much as at that very moment. There had been time when he would have been the one doing the running, he would have been the first one in there, not caring about the danger, only aware that his friends needed him. But now he could only wait and try not to get in the way.

He hated waiting. He hated the wheelchair. He hated the enforced impotence of having no functioning legs. Self-pity was not in his nature, he made the best of what he had, but at that moment he looked down as his useless legs and cursed them too.

A few minutes later, there was the screech of tyres and the growing blare of sirens. To Ironside it felt like it took hours, and the more he urged himself to wait, the harder it became. Time seemed to slow to a stop.

A fire engine, and four police cars and an ambulance exploded into view. Ironside watched as the vehicles screeched to a stop and the men inside got out. Within a few moments, the area was thick with people all working to control the fire. He forced himself to be calm. Panicking wasn't going to help anyone. He'd done all he could and he would just have to wait for the outcome.

Carl came running back, avoiding the lines of hoses and the bustling people.

'Sorry Chief,' he said breathlessly as he stopped at Ironside's wheelchair. 'If there was anyone on the other side of the building, they'd gone by the time I got there.'

'Didn't you see anyone? Any car? Anything?'

Carl shook his head.

'No one.'

Beside them, water burst into life, and Ironside saw one of the firemen come running up, holding his bright yellow helmet under his arm.

'You called it in, Chief? You know what happened? Anyone in there?'

'At least one person inside,' said Ironside, nodding. 'Likely others, maybe incapacitated.'

'I understand. But you'd better stay back. Get your van out of the way, too. Move it up the street.'

Ironside nodded again, veiling his resentment and anger. They didn't need a cripple getting in their way. And all he _could_ do now was sit and wait in his wheelchair.

Helped by Reese, he rolled himself backwards, and they moved the van further back down the road. Then they waited beside it, not getting in the way of the professionals as they did their jobs. He could see the smoke getting thicker, billowing out of the windows on the higher levels.

Carl stood by his side, shifting restlessly. They just had to wait.

Suddenly there was shouting from the open doorway, and he saw the medics move forward.

As he watched, two people were helped out. One was Mark Sanger, he was coughing and staggering, his clothes blackened with the smoke.

The other person was Eve Whitfield.

_She's_ _safe_. The relief was far more potent than he thought it would be, more than anything else he wanted to rush over and be with them. But he had to let the medics do their job. He and his metal prison would only get in their way.

Eve was staggering too, and she didn't seem to be fully aware of where she was as she was helped onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. He watched as she lay down, just reminding himself that she was safe, and he could speak to her soon.

He turned his gaze back to the burning building.

Patiently, Ironside waited for the fire crew to bring someone else out. He waited. And waited. A minute or so passed, crawling along no faster than Ironside could move without his wheelchair.

Then there were shouts and a rumble, and the fire officers suddenly began to run. Carl shot a worried look at Ironside, but all the Chief could do was stare in horror.

There was a dull, flat thud and the left side of the building, the end furthest away from where Ironside was, slowly toppled forward, bringing part of the roof down as it went.

* * *

At the hospital, Ironside sat alone in the small, featureless waiting room, hunched forward in his wheelchair.

The doctors were seeing to Eve and Mark, Reese was gathering information about the fire. And Ironside was still just _waiting_. He wasn't very good at waiting, though he had had plenty of practice over the past few days. But this time in the hospital, there was no one to keep him company. Before, he had always had another member of his staff with him. Whenever anything had gone wrong, there was always someone else there. But now his whole team was in danger.

After what felt like hours, Carl Reese appeared from the elevator, looking rushed and worried. He didn't waste time on asking questions, knowing the Chief would have told him if there was any news, and came straight to the point, for which Ironside was extremely grateful.

'The fire's out completely,' he told the Chief. 'Once the wall went, it was easier getting the water to the flames. They had no trouble. Structurally, there's little damage but for the wall. And it didn't spread beyond the one building.'

'Good. At least that's something,' said Ironside.

'And I spoke to the Fire Chief. Looks like it was arson.'

'Arson?' Ironside didn't sound surprised.

'Not much doubt, Chief,' replied Carl. 'The men said they could smell the accelerant. Gasoline. And it looks like it was rigged to go, someone had put fuel over the far end to make sure, up the walls and the beams. They knew what they were doing.'

Ironside nodded. Those were more of Tony R's trademarks.

'Have they _searched_ the building?'

Carl licked his lips.

'They haven't found anyone else, Chief. And there's nothing much left to search, not with half the building down. It's possible that…' Carl stalled for a moment, perhaps trying to find a nicer way of saying what he had to say. In the end he couldn't. 'It's possible that Ed was trapped under debris when the wall came down. We might not know for sure for a few days. Forensics will be down there within the hour to start going over it.'

'Thank you, Carl,' Ironside said quietly.

'I don't think it's going to be much consolation but it was your quick reaction that saved the whole area. They seem to think that it had just started when we arrived. Maybe even just minutes before.'

'Just as it _started_ …?' Ironside stopped. He couldn't let himself jump to any conclusions. But he felt like he had been punched. Perhaps, if they had been a minute earlier, maybe they would have found Ed too, and Richards, and this nightmare would now be over.

'Chief, you ok?'

Ironside nodded.

'What about the other buildings on the list?'

'I had some black-and-whites check them out, top priority. All came up empty.'

'How about witnesses around the warehouse?

Carl shook his head.

'The place is deserted. I can't find a single witness and I've an army of patrolmen out checking. Looks like they came and went without anyone seeing them.'

Ironside's right fist bunched, and he pushed it down on the arm of his wheelchair. They had nothing more to go on, they'd tried for Tony R and missed. And missing was the very last thing you could afford to do with Richards.

'Keep at it, Carl,' said Ironside. 'There has to be something.'

'I sure hope so, Chief,' said Carl. 'I'll check back with you later.'

Carl left, his shoulders drooping more visibly than they had earlier. Ironside watched him leave with a touch of envy in his gaze. At least Carl had something to keep his mind off worrying.

A thousand different scenarios played through his mind, all of them unpleasant. But without more information, all Ironside could do was speculate. Ed was gone, Ironside didn't believe he was dead, but was he a willing accomplice or an innocent victim? Ironside couldn't accept that Ed would betray them, but until he found proof, and until he talked to Eve and found out what she knew, _that_ was still what all the evidence pointed too and _that_ was what everyone else was going to think as well.

But that led to an even more disturbing thought. If he was an innocent victim, then Ironside had missed his chance to help him, as Tony R was not given to making the same mistake twice.

He'd been too flamin' slow on the uptake! For all his so called faith in his instinct, he hadn't ordered each of the buildings searched simultaneously. If he had… The thought and accompanying self-recrimination was cut short. Behind him, there was the noise of a door opening. A thin, wiry man in a white coat came out of one of the nearby rooms, spotting the Chief immediately.

'Chief Ironside?' said the doctor. 'Mr Sanger can see you now.'

'Thank you, doctor. And what about Miss Whitfield?'

'That will take a little bit longer, she's lightly sedated for the moment. It's been a tremendous shock. That, and the effects of the smoke…'

'But I have to speak to her, as soon as I can,' said the Chief urgently. 'Speed is vital. Lives are at stake, doctor.'

'I understand that, Chief Ironside,' said the doctor calmly. 'But she is still asleep. She has been through a very traumatic experience, remember.'

They looked at each other, Ironside giving the man an uncompromising glare.

'Very well, Chief,' said the doctor with a resigned shake of his head. 'I'll see what I can do. But I'll give you no promises.'

'Thank you, doctor. I appreciate your help.'

'Mr Sanger is waiting.'

The doctor stepped back, holding the door open for Ironside.

Eagerly, the Chief rolled his wheelchair past the doctor into the small room beyond. Mark was sitting on the bed, pulling his jacket back on. His right hand and arm were carefully bandaged.

He looked up as the Chief entered, and smiled.

'Hey, Chief!'

'How are you, Mark?' asked Ironside.

'I've been better,' he said. 'Look, how's Eve?'

'Sedated. Traumatised. I don't know what else.'

He and Mark looked at each other in silence for a few moments. Neither man had to ask how the other one felt, that was clear.

They had come so close to disaster. Part of him wanted to shout at Mark for taking such an absurd risk, but he didn't. He'd saved Eve's life. And Ironside knew that, in Mark's position, he would have done exactly the same thing. It was better to let it pass and move on.

'Tell me what happened,' he said.

'The whole place stank of gasoline,' said Mark. 'It was real dark and difficult to see, there was a lot of smoke from the back. But I thought I heard something from one of the back rooms so I went to check it out.'

'You followed the noise?'

'I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard coughing. There was a locked room at the back of the building, she was on the floor, and I picked her up and got out. Just in time,' he added.

The Chief drew a deep breath. Now for the question Ironside didn't want to ask.

'Was there anyone else there?'

'I didn't see anyone,' said Mark, shaking his head. 'I wanted to.'

'Are you sure she was alone?'

'No,' admitted Mark. 'I'm not positive. It was too dark to be positive.'

Ironside gave a terse nod. Ed _could_ have still been in there when the building collapsed. The look on Mark's face told Ironside that he was thinking that as well.

'Is there any news about Ed?' Mark asked. 'Anything at all?'

'No. And they won't know for sure that no one was else was hurt for a few days.'

'Oh.'

It was clear that Mark was genuinely worried for his colleague, just as Ed had once been worried about Mark after he'd been injured in a shooting. Of all the risks Ironside had taken over his police career, offering Mark the job as his helper was the biggest. Mark and Ed didn't always get on, but it never ceased to amaze Ironside that these two men from such completely different backgrounds could have ended up as friends, let alone such good friends. They had worked out their differences, he was proud of them for that. Not that he would ever have dreamt of telling either of them that.

'So we still don't know what's going on,' said Mark. 'Or where Ed could be.'

'Eve will hopefully tell us something soon. Maybe you can too. What can you remember of the room?'

'A table, a telephone, a chair.' Mark hesitated. 'Maybe…'

'Spit the rest of it out, then!'

'I'm not sure, Chief,' he said. 'I think there was a dark jacket. I can't be sure. It might have been Ed's, it was the right colour.'

'What about the heroin?'

'I didn't see anything, no packages, no boxes. Nothing.'

Once more, Ironside nodded.

'Alright, Mark. Get yourself ready, we'll be leaving soon. First, I'm going to see Eve.'

'I want to see her too,' insisted Mark.

'She'll want to see you as well,' said Ironside with a smile. 'Just give me a little time with her first.'

'Sure, Chief.'

Ironside rolled himself backwards, and turned to the door.

'I hope you get the answers,' said Mark as Ironside opened the door.

'I hope so too.'

Outside, Ironside pushed himself down the corridor towards the door of Eve's room. He steeled himself to face what was awaiting him in there, knowing that she was injured, and she would be very shocked by what had happened. But he had to get some answers, and he had to get them quickly.

He opened the door and went in.

Eve was lying on the stark, sterile bed, her face pale, her eyes closed. Ironside rolled the wheelchair up to beside her bed, as close as he could get. Then he sat next to her, holding her cold hand. He waited for ten minutes or more, just sitting there looking at her.

They had been in this position before, when she'd been shot while looking for that ridiculous present. She had pulled through then. She would be all right now. Mark's quick reactions and fearlessness had saved her life.

Though he'd told her it would be blood, sweat and tears in the police force, she hadn't signed up for all of this. And though she was strong, he wasn't sure that she was quite strong enough to go all the way to the end and come out again still as a cop. There had been something else, something different, about her over the past few months. He suspected it had something to do with her boyfriend Scott, but he hadn't asked. And if that was true, then this could well be the breaking point.

She shifted slightly, and though he didn't want to awaken her, he needed answers. He couldn't delay any longer.

'Eve,' he said softly. 'Eve.'

Her eyes flickered and she turned her head towards him. When she saw him, she gave a tiny, wane smile.

'Robert,' she said sleepily. She had never called him that before, never anything so personal. The sleepy look gave way to another smile. Then it changed to worry. Her grip tightened on his hand.

'It's ok, Eve. You're safe,' he told her.

'Ed?' she asked. 'Is he alright?'

He didn't have the heart to tell her the truth, but he _couldn't_ lie to her.

'He's not here, we didn't find him.'

'Oh!' Eve tried to push herself up. 'Chief!'

'It's ok, Eve, lie back. That's why I need to speak to you. I need to ask you some questions.'

'What do you need to know?' she said. Though her voice sounded firmer, she gave a slight cough, trying to clear her throat.

This was a hateful part of his job, demanding answers from someone who had been through so much. It was tempting to say he would come back when she was feeling stronger, or that she should rest, but he didn't. Eve didn't need that sort of indulgence at the moment, and she wouldn't have stood for it. She wanted to help, and she knew he needed her. He handed her a glass of water.

'I want to know what happened,' said Ironside. 'Everything.'

'It was Anthony Richards,' she said quietly.

It was the confirmation he needed. He'd been right, and how he wished he hadn't been. Ironside pursed his lips, then nodded.

'You guessed?' she asked.

'I would have given my pension to be wrong,' he said. 'Mine and yours and the whole department's.'

'Ed didn't do anything wrong,' she said. 'You have to believe that. He was only protecting me… from…'

'From what?' asked Ironside, more sharply than he meant.

'From whom,' she corrected. For a minute she was quiet, her breathing more shallow. 'I don't know what they said they would do, I couldn't ask. The way he looked at me, it was… disgusting.'

All Ironside could do was hold her hand in a vain attempt to reassure her.

'We need a description, and the police artist will be here very soon. Did you find out his name?'

'L-Lonnie,' said Eve, the expression on her face one of repulsion. 'Texan accent. Thick-set, brown eyes, black hair with a slightly receding hairline, a long nose, thin lips, and weak chin. He was wearing a plain dark blue, tailored suit, dark shirt, no tie.'

Again, Ironside nodded.

'Thank you, Eve.'

There was a pause.

'He did it to protect me,' whispered Eve. 'I don't know what Lon… what that _man_ had done to other women, but Ed stopped him from doing it to me.'

Ironside felt her shaking, and tightened the grip on her hand. She smiled gratefully at him.

'But now you're here with us,' said Ironside. 'You're safe.'

'But what about Ed?' There were tears in her eyes now, she had never looked so lost, or so beautiful. Ironside pulled his handkerchief out of his top pocket and handed it over. She took it gratefully, covering her eyes for a moment.

'He'll be safe enough for the moment,' Ironside said. 'Tony R hasn't finished yet. We'll have a chance to find him in time.'

'How can you be sure, Chief? How can you be sure he won't just kill him and walk away?'

'I know Tony R. He wants revenge, all the way to the end, even if that means he'll lose. There are some things more important to him than life. And keeping Ed alive is still the best way to get it.'

Eve nodded shakily, as if she didn't believe him. But he held her gaze, trying to make her realise the true. Tony R wasn't going to be satisfied with just _this_ , not after what Ironside had done to him and his own. But Ironside didn't elaborate on how narrow the line between life and death could be in the hands of a vicious man like Richards.

'You need to tell me what happened,' said Ironside at last.

Eve told him, slowly and carefully, in as much detail as she could, Ironside only rarely having to ask for clarification.

She spoke about the carjacking outside the Bayside Motel, and Ed's inexplicable willingness to do as the man asked without question. She told him what Richards has said about a price, and how everyone could be bought for the right amount of money. Then, in a voice laden with guilt and worry, she told him about the argument they'd had and how Ed had gotten in the way of Lonnie's fist, and how she'd realised that Richards had twisted the truth. Finally, in tears, she spoke about their last conversation, how defeated Ed had sounded.

'They came for us in the morning,' she said, 'and they took Ed through to the other room. There was the smell of gasoline. I waited for them to come back. A few minutes later, there was smoke. I called out, but there was too much smoke. I don't really remember anything else.'

'You _waited_?' asked Ironside. 'You expected them to come back?'

'Yes, they said it wasn't my turn yet, and I would have to wait.'

'Did they say what was going to happen? Did they say anything about where you were being taken?'

'No,' she said firmly. 'They never said anything like that. It all seemed very well planned. They didn't need to say anything.'

'But they _did_ intend to come back for you?'

'I think so. That's what it sounded like.'

Ironside's chest tightened. That was exactly what he had been afraid of. The fire was just taking hold as he and Mark arrived. Ed and Tony R and this Lonnie were still close to the building. Ironside swore to himself. Minutes! He'd missed them by _minutes_! He had been so flamin' close!

'Chief, what's wrong?' asked Eve. 'Are you ok?'

Ironside nodded. There was silence, and Eve lay back, closing her eyes. Ironside watched her lying there, marvelling at how she had come though that experience so well. And it wasn't over for Ed. His insides twisted with anger and fear for his sergeant. Tony R had played them all with such expertise. And what was he going to do next? There was nothing, the trail had gone cold

'Chief?'

He looked up at Eve, realising he was glaring out of the window. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but somehow it felt hollow.

'Thank you,' she said. 'I knew you would come to find us.'

'You can thank Mark in a few moments,' Ironside replied. 'He's the one who braved a burning building.'

Eve gave him a look that said that she knew he would have braved much more, but for his wheelchair.

'You're the one who figured out where we were.'

Ironside only nodded, not willing to burden her with his problems at the moment. He couldn't bear to tell her that they had only just missed Ed and Richards.

There was the noise of the door opening, and Mark popped his head around the door. Eve's smile brightened.

'Is it ok to come in?' he asked. 'The doc said I could say hi.'

'Yes, of course, Mark.'

The other man walked up to Eve, grinning at her.

'Good to see you, Eve,' he said.

She reached out to take his hand.

'Mark,' she said. 'Mark, how can I thank you?'

'Get better quickly.' Mark turned to Ironside. 'The doc thinks she needs rest. If you're done, we should go.'

'Is there anything else you can tell us?' Ironside asked Eve.

'No Chief. I've told you everything I remember.'

'Good…'

'Chief,' she said, interrupting him. 'Please find him quickly.'

Ironside gave her hand one more squeeze, and nodded. Eve lay back and closed her eyes. Ironside stayed with her for a few moments long, then placed her hand on the white sheet and wheeled himself out. Mark followed. As the door shut, Ironside let out a long, slow breath.

'What is it?' asked Mark anxiously. 'Did you get what you wanted?'

Ironside nodded.

'I got what I wanted all right. I got it back to me in spades! Where's Carl?'

'I saw him down the corridor.'

'Get him. I need to speak to him right now.'

Mark ran off, and Ironside wheeled himself back towards the familiar waiting area.

Pushing his emotions to one side, he tried to think what to do next; what Richards would do now, and what Richards would anticipate he would do. It was clear they were locked in a game of cat and mouse, and that Richards still thought he held all the aces. He had the drop on Ironside, he had the McDonald evidence, and he still had Ed Brown.

_Ed_ … Ironside forced himself not to think about what was likely to happen to him. Speculation about that was counter-productive. He had to keep his mind on the facts.

Fact, Richards wanted the money, so he would have to do something about that soon, regardless of whether Ironside had upset part of the plan. So it was Richards' move, and Ironside had to be ready.

A minute later, Carl Reese and Mark walked bristly up the corridor.

'What can I do, Chief?'

'I need an ID on another man, likely named Lonnie with a history of violence against women, check with Texan State. We'll need a picture too, so get George to talk to Eve as soon as he can. And I'll need a formal statement as well.'

'I'm on it now, Chief. And George is already on his way over.'

'Good.'

Carl half-turned then turned back, pursing his lips.

'Is Eve ok?' he asked.

'She will be.'

Ironside frowned at the floor, before looking at Carl.

'One other thing,' he said. 'They hadn't intended on leaving Eve behind. It was a snap decision because they must have seen us arriving. So I want Eve's escape kept quiet. Dead quiet. Make sure the newsrooms don't go with any flamin' _rescue_ story!'

'Ok, Chief.'

'We've upset his plans, that's clear,' said Ironside. 'And Tony R isn't going to like that. Not one bit.'

'What do you think he'll do?'

Ironside hesitated.

'I don't know,' he said.

'But you _can_ guess?' said Reese shrewdly.

Ironside made no answer, but looked away.

'You think he'll take it out on Ed?' Reese asked.

There was no point in lying.

'Yes,' Ironside replied. 'I'm _sure_ of it.'

* * *


	9. Consequences of the Unforeseen

Consequences of the Unforeseen

Back at his office, Commissioner Randall was waiting, as Ironside guessed he would be. In spite of everything that had happened, the Chief still had a money drop to consider, though he didn't know where or when it was going to be. Getting the McDonald case to trial was the Department's and the Commissioner's top priority, even though it was the very last thing on Ironside's mind at the moment.

There was a sense that time was running out. There were only a few hours left, and the Commissioner was understandably anxious.

'Carl has been keeping me informed, Bob, as far as it goes,' Dennis Randall said sombrely as Ironside rolled himself in. 'How's Eve?'

'Resting. For the moment.'

There was a meaningful pause.

'And what about Sergeant Brown?'

Ironside noted the lack of a first name with interest.

'He's gone.'

'Well, I hope for your sake there's a _but_ to qualify that, Bob,' said Randall.

'Of course there's a but,' snapped Ironside. 'Eve's statement clears him of any conspiracy. It was blackmail, Dennis, a particularly nasty kind of blackmail.'

'But…'

'The _first_ rule in any sort of kidnapping is to keep the victims safe. And that is exactly what Ed did. That is what I would have done, and you too, Commissioner!'

Dennis considered this for a moment.

'Very well, Bob. We'll leave that aside. We have other things to worry about.'

From his inside jacket pocket, the Commissioner pulled out a letter.

'While you were at the hospital, this arrived at my office, addressed to you. I took the _liberty_ of opening it.' He handed the letter over. 'We've had the lab boys over it, no fingerprints, no anything.

Ironside opened the envelope. There was a set of instructions typed out on a plain sheet of paper, and a short string of numbers at the end.

The Chief looked up, his mouth open to ask, but the Commissioner beat him to the punch.

'By courier, special delivery. We've tried to trace it, but there's nothing. All done by telephone and cash.'

'Are you sure?' asked Ironside. Dennis gave him a dark look.

'There are other competent law enforcement officers in this department,' he said dryly. 'Besides you.'

'And this?' said Ironside, pointing at the number. 'I presume it's a telephone number.'

'It's being checked right now.'

'Good.'

The instructions were simple. Ironside was to be at the right place at two minutes past four in the morning with the money in the van. No cover. No backup. And no second chances.

'I'll need your help to get everything ready, Commissioner,' said Ironside.

'You're not going to go through with this, are you, Bob? Not without some sort of backup on hand?'

'Of course I am,' replied Ironside.

'Doing what Richards wants you to do is dangerous,' said Randall. 'You'll be playing right into his hands.'

'And if I don't, there will be no _doubt_ that McDonald will walk. Richards isn't going to compromise.'

Randall gave him a doubtful look.

'You don't fool me for a moment, Bob,' Dennis said curtly. 'I know why you're doing this.'

The dark expression on the Chief's face grew darker.

'Even if there is still a slight chance he's alive, I'm going to take it,' said Ironside. 'You can't stop me.'

'I can withhold the money,' said Randall. 'Two _million_ dollars is a lot for just one police sergeant.'

Ironside's face curled into a full scowl and he hunched forward in his wheelchair.

'I had no idea you were so penny-pinching, Commissioner!' he said angrily.

'I know you'd pay ten times that, a hundred times that, or more, to get him back, Bob. But it's not your money.'

'You're not going to stop me from going,' persisted Ironside. 'So if that's all you came here to say, then…'

'Don't throw me out just yet,' said Randall calmly. 'I'm not going to withhold the money. I'm just saying that your walking into a trap.'

'I know. I'm going into this with my eyes open.'

'Bob, please. This is not a good idea.'

'He's right, Chief,' chipped in Mark suddenly. 'It's what this Richards cat _wants_ you to do.'

'But Anthony Richards is not the only one who can plan a trap.'

'So what are you planning, Chief?' Mark asked.

Ironside shook his head. The idea was still in its infancy, he needed some more time to be sure, before he spoke to his staff. And he certainly wasn't going to tip his hand too soon to the Commissioner either. Dennis would only try and talk him out of it.

'We have a lot of work to do before four,' he said. 'Mark, you take care of the van, strip it everything that's not vital. Right down to the spare. And get me Carl, I want information from Texas, I want the full file on my desk in an hour. Then get me Eve.'

'Surely Eve has been through enough,' said Dennis.

'I need her,' said Ironside. 'And she will want to be part of this, she maybe even needs to be part of this. Lying, going over her imagined mistakes in a white hospital room isn't going to help. Being here, with me, helping, is.'

'I hope you're right,' said the Commissioner, rising. 'I'll have the money ready for you to collect, Bob.'

'Thank you, Dennis.'

The Commissioner shook his head.

'For what it's worth, I'm not sure you should be thanking me.'

Dennis rose, and with a courteous nod to Mark he walked out. Ironside watched him leave, his forehead furrowed in a frown, already thinking of what to do next.

He was under no illusions about what was at stake, not just one of the most important trials in the city, but also the life of one of his close friends. He had to think this through very carefully; what was he willing to risk on the off chance that he could save Ed's life?

Though his expression remained the same, he felt a rising sense of anticipation. He had to predict what Richards would do, unflinchingly and dispassionately. He was the only one who could.

And once he'd done that, all he could do was wait and pray for Ed's sake that he was right.

* * *

The first thing that Ed became aware of was the repetitive rhythm of pop music, and every drumbeat and chord sent a surge of pain though his head. It took him a few moments of confusion to realise that the music was coming from a radio as it had the low quality hiss, and the occasional burst of static.

Someone was listening to a radio. That didn't make a great deal of sense at the moment. But rather than worrying about it, as maybe he should have, Ed slowly opened his eyes.

He was inside somewhere, lying with his right arm crushed underneath him on a wooden floor, his hands still cuffed in front of his stomach. From his position on the ground, he could almost make out a table close by that was the source of the music. The room beyond was larger than he remembered, and colder. It had a low roof, and thick wooden beams that supported a string of yellow-tinted electric lights. Though the lights were dim, their brightness hurt the back of his eyes. Squinting made it feel a little better, but it was too difficult to sustain. He let he eyes close again.

Apart from an aching head, his shoulder and arm hurt where he had been lying on them, and he felt the room swim and lurch very slightly, making him feel sick. There was a damp, sea-like smell to the building, and Ed could only guess that he was somewhere near the ocean, but if there was any noise of water, it was drowned out by the music.

Worry whispered at the back of his mind. Remembering was difficult, but he _needed_ to remember what had happened, and how he had gotten himself into this, whatever this was.

Almost drowned out by the music, Ed could make out male voices, and they were arguing. One, an educated, Californian voice, was trying to be reasonable, but the other one, with a Texan accent, was furiously spitting out swear words.

Ed couldn't make out all of the conversation, and the parts he did were garbled and confused. Then the Texan said something about a woman, and there was a tiny flicker of understanding in Ed's mind.

'I wanted the blondie,' the Texan said. 'You _promised_ me I could have her afterwards.'

'You'll just have to make do with the money instead,' replied the other man.

'I don't want money!'

'Just think of all the blondes you can find with a quarter of a million.'

There was a low mutter that Ed couldn't make out.

'Besides,' said the second man, 'She dead now, so it's over.'

 _Dead_? Ed drew a sharp breath, opening his eyes again. Who was dead? Blonde? Dead? As if someone had suddenly flicked a switch, he remembered the room they had been in; holding her gently through the long, empty night as she slept; the harsh stink of gas as he'd been dragged out to the car. They had left her…

'Eve…!' he said. _Oh, God, not Eve!_

The rush of shock and grief made it feel like he was falling. He could hardly breathe. There was the sound of hurried footsteps and the radio was suddenly cut off, mid-song. He saw movement, and a man walked forward to where Ed was lying on the floor. _Anthony Richards_.

'So you're awake,' he said. 'Finally.'

'Eve?' His voice sounded distorted and far away. 'Not _dead_.'

Eve couldn't be dead. Not after everything that had happened. But Richards gave a callous shrug that made Ed's blood turn colder that iced water.

'It was on the news. They're looking for a body at the warehouse.'

For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped, a feeling that he had had once before, the last time someone he'd cared for was murdered. He'd never wanted that feeling again. The disbelief lifted, leaving behind the suffocating shock of loss. Ed wasn't sure what hurt the most, the fact she was dead after all he'd done to keep her alive; the fact he had _failed_ to keep her alive; or the totally cold and emotionless way with which Richards spoke.

He wanted to shout at the man as a red haze of anger descended on him, but he couldn't get the words out to express himself. He'd lost friends before, he'd lost partners, he'd lost his fiancée. Now he'd lost Eve too. Richards glanced down at him, without any trace of emotion.

'You _bastard_ ,' Ed whispered.

Richards wasn't even listening. He didn't care.

'Enough,' said Richards. 'It's done and can't be undone. I would worry about yourself now.'

Ed gave an ironic half-laugh. After everything that Richards had done, did he really think it mattered?

'You can't use her as leverage any more,' Ed replied, his voice slightly slurred.

'That is true,' said Richards. 'But maybe I don't need to. Maybe I don't _want_ to. Pick him up.'

Lonnie tugged Ed's arm, sending a bolt of pain though his shoulder, and then pulled him to a nearby chair. On the table close by, Ed caught sight of Eve's discarded purse, and the wave of revulsion rose again in the back of his throat. She was gone. How could he live with himself after letting her down so badly?

'Now you're awake, let's see if we can get some answers,' said Richards. 'Because there's only one way Ironside could have been there so soon.'

Richards grabbed Ed by the throat, forcing his head back. Pain shot through the top of his spine and neck, making little pinpricks of light swirl through his vision. He tried to raise his arms to push the man away, but something jerked them back down.

'I want to know how you did it?' Richards hissed. 'How did you tip him off?'

'I didn't.'

Richards smashed the palm of his other hand into Ed's face, across his nose and Ed cried out. All he could smell and taste was warm metal and there was the trickle of blood coming out of his nose and over his mouth.

'I didn't,' Ed said thickly, surprised at how odd his voice sounded. He looked up at Richards. 'Maybe Ironside's better than you think.'

Under the circumstances, it was a pretty stupid thing to say. Richards responded by hitting him flat-handed across the face again. But through the pain, Ed couldn't quite regret saying what he thought, as he'd finally managed to get the urbane and unflappable Anthony Richards mad enough to _do_ something and get his hands dirty. Besides, the physical pain helped dull the haunting image of Eve's face.

With a final, agonising shove, Richards released Ed's throat. After a few moments of stillness to steady himself, Ed slowly leaned over to spit the blood from his mouth onto the floor.

'Well, you should be very glad she's not here,' hissed Richards. 'I would have let him have as much fun with her as he could.'

Ed shuddered at the threat, empty though it was now. They couldn't hurt Eve now. That was the only small comfort he could find in Eve's death.

'Well, maybe I should just let Lonnie work on _you_ , since we've lost our leverage,' Richards snarled.

Ed was sure he saw Lonnie smile.

'Mr Richards, it would be a pleasure to bleed the pig and hear him squeal.'

Ed could still remember what Richards had told him about Lonnie. And he had no doubt the man would enjoy it.

Cold dread settled in Ed's stomach. He couldn't see any way out of this. He'd been in tight situations before. As a cop on the streets of the city his life had been in danger a number of times, and working for the Chief had sometimes felt like a death wish. But he had always known that his colleagues, his _friends_ , were still looking out for him. This time, he wasn't so sure. Eve was dead, what if they thought he was dead too? Or worse, what if they thought he'd caused her death and were out, looking for revenge? Ed gave a small shiver. But what else were they going to think?

Just how would the Chief react to Eve's death? And Mark? Ed was still too shocked to believe it. But at least she wasn't here.

On the table beside him, he could still see Eve's purse, half open with the contents sticking out of the top, her lipstick, her keys, her notebook, her compact, her perfume. Beside that was a gun. Ed recognised it as a police revolver; maybe it was _her_ gun as well.

Richards followed his gaze and picked the gun up. For a heart-stopping moment Ed thought that was the end, that Richards was going to point it between his eyes and fire. But Richards didn't move.

'Do you know what happened to my brother?' he asked at last. 'Did Robert tell you?'

Ed debated not saying anything, but silence would only result in more pain. There would be more than enough of that later, he was sure.

'You put a contract on him,' replied Ed. 'You ordered a hit so he wouldn't testify against you.'

'But did Robert ever tell you exactly _how_ he died? The circumstances? What happened?'

'No.'

Richards gave a sardonic laugh.

'I can't say I'm surprised,' he said. 'Robert Ironside bears the brunt of the responsibility for it.'

Richards lifted the gun up, holding it to the light so he could examine it. It gleamed in the dim light like the ocean under the moon, treacherous, mysterious and black. Ed watched every move Richards made, wondering when the man would finally snap and pull the trigger.

After a minute of silence and contemplation, Richards looked back at Ed.

'My brother,' he said with a slight hiss to his tone, 'my _betrayer_ was left to bleed to death in a dark alleyway.'

Richards looked at him, but underneath the cold stare, Ed could sense the other man's anger bubbling just below the calm surface. His face, once so bland and bloodless had thin lines of tension all over it.

It was clear what was going to happen. Somehow, probably baited with the missing drugs, Robert Ironside would be led here for a demonstration of revenge. The Chief had already lost Eve, he'd watch as Ed was murdered as well. Then Richards would kill Ironside too.

Richards nodded slowly.

'I see you understand, Brown,' he said. ' But remember, I couldn't have done it, any of it, without your help.'

Ed shuddered, and Richards gave a light laugh and turned away.

It hurt all the more because it was true. He'd been manoeuvred and blackmailed into cooperating, but that didn't change the fact that he _had_ helped. He _was_ responsible, at least in part for this situation, and for Eve's death. And now he couldn't even warn the Chief.

'String him up,' Richards said to Lonnie. 'Over there.'

Ed was abruptly pulled upright once more. Though he was still in pain, Ed was aware enough to know that this might be his very last opportunity to get himself out of this and help the Chief. He didn't have a plan, he couldn't think straight enough for that, but he did know he had to try, now he couldn't endanger Eve.

As Lonnie undid the cuff on his right wrist, Ed yanked his arm away, and hit the man hard in the stomach with all that was left of his strength, using all the grief and pain as fuel. Lonnie gave an oof surprise.

But still, Lonnie was faster. He straightened quickly and did exactly the same back to Ed knocking the air out of his lungs and following it up with a powerful hook that sent Ed crashing against the wall, next to a line of boxes.

Again, Ed was too slow and weakened to gain any advantage. Lonnie was across beside him by the time Ed had managed to push himself upright, and he brought his foot down across the cuff that was still on Ed's left wrist, grinding it down into the wooden floorboards. A lance of agony shot up Ed's arm, and he only didn't cry out as he didn't have any breath left to make the noise.

Clearly furious at what had happened, Lonnie yanked him off the floor and pulled him back across to beside the table. Disorientated and breathless, Ed had no strength or coordination to stop him. Lonnie jerked Ed's left arm round, twisting it as far forward as it would go. Then he lifted it up high, and flicked the other side of the cuffs over the ceiling beam and pulled it tight. Then he grabbed Ed's other arm and lifted it up, and clipped the cuff round the wrist, leaving Ed stretched at full height, arms fixed fast round the roof beam, unable to get away. His feet slipped on the floor, and he struggled to keep himself upright without putting all his weight on his aching arms. In spite of the discomfort it caused, Ed let his head tip back, as it was easier to breath. His last chance was gone.

'That was very stupid,' said Richards, not looking at Ed.

Ed didn't particularly care if it was stupid or not. He couldn't just let himself be brought down completely without a fight, now they couldn't hurt Eve. Richards move closer to Ed so he was only a few inches away, the hand with the gun shifting restlessly. There was silence but for Ed's ragged, erratic breathing.

'Mr Richards?' said Lonnie hopefully. 'Mr Richards?'

Richards sighed, the calm, urbane disinterest back on his face. He looked Ed in the eye for a few moments.

'Oh, ok, Lonnie. Get on with it. But nothing too clever. And don't kill him, I want him awake for Ironside.'

Lonnie nodded and stepped up in front of Ed, the smile on his face one of pure anticipation. Ed tensed, struggling ineffectually against the handcuffs, but that only made Lonnie smile more widely.

Ed knew what was going to happen. And there was nothing he could do to stop him.

Once again, Lonnie reached up to touch the blood on Ed's face, his expression one of fascination. Then slowly and deliberately, he removed Ed's tie and one by one undid the buttons down the front of Ed's once-white shirt.

The man's hand felt like sandpaper on the skin of his ribcage, and Ed hissed in pain as Lonnie found and poked all the cuts and bruises down his side. Then he moved round examining Ed's torso as if it were a piece of meat waiting to be carved. It was all Ed could do keep breathing, and try and control his growing panic and fear. And though he tugged and pulled, all that did was make his arms, wrists and neck hurt more.

Finally, Lonnie stopped touching him and stepped back.

Then Ed heard the flick of a knife. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the cold cut of steel, and yet more pain.

He didn't have to wait for long.

* * *


	10. The Sweet Taste of Insanity

It was going to be extremely difficult night for everyone. Ironside knew they were all working at the very edge of their abilities, they were all tired and they were all very worried.

Carl had arrived soon after the Commissioner left with yet another thin file containing the report from Eve, and the sketch that George had made of Lonnie. Not long after that they heard back from an anxious Chief of Police at Dallas, saying that Lonnie McArthur was one of their most wanted, but refused to go into more details over the telephone.

An hour later, Eve herself walked through the office door, an unpleasant look of grim determination on her face.

Ironside looked at her, relief and sorrow filling his heart. He needed her, and he had asked her to be here. And he knew she wouldn't refuse, she would have done anything for him. But it wasn't going to be easy.

The arrival of the case file on Lonnie McArthur from Texas did nothing to help either. Mark, Eve and Carl were eager to see what the file contained, but even a cursory glance told Ironside that it wasn't going to be pleasant reading.

He looked at the anxious faces of his colleagues back down to the file, thinking how smart Richards had been in choosing this man as his partner. The combination of hatred, cruelty, low intelligence and a love of inflicting pain made him an expert in his field. That man hated everything that wasn't white, heterosexual and male, it was clear from the files, and could no doubt be relied on to cause as much suffering as possible, for a long as possible. He was a perfect choice for Richards in this situation.

'McArthur was sprung about a year ago,' said Ironside. 'Clever, it must have made him very loyal to whoever organised it.'

Carl nodded.

Eve was just staring at the folder in the Chief's hand.

'What was he in for?' asked Eve.

'Life.'

'That's not what I meant,' she said.

Ironside stayed silent, flicking through the file.

' _Tell_ me!'

'Three convictions for assault with a deadly weapon, two for attempted murder, two for rape, one for sexual assault.' Ironside looked up at Eve. 'Those were the ones that they could charge him on.'

Eve shuddered as he spoke. The list of Lonnie's crimes was bad enough, but worse was the fact that the bulk of the file was made up from the forensic and autopsy pictures of Lonnie's victims. Ironside looked up to Eve. He could tell her not to look, or he could order her not to, but that wasn't going to help. Instead, he looked through the increasingly gruesome pictures, struggling to keep himself from imagining Ed Brown tortured like that.

Then he closed the file and laid it on the table in front them, putting his hand on it.

He looked at Eve, willing her not to pick it up. She would never be the same if she did.

'I'm sorry Chief. I have to know. I have to see for myself.'

Ironside nodded, lifting his hand.

She picked up the file, opened it and started to read.

Mark lasted about three minutes before he turned away; Carl a few more. But Eve sat there, looking through every single one of the pictures with a remorselessness that even Ironside found unnerving.

And when she was finished, she closed the file and stood up, swaying slightly, her face as white as the mist from the Bay. Without a word she turned, and walked unsteadily towards the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Mark and Carl both looked at Ironside.

'We can't just sit here,' said Mark. 'We've got to find him, before…'

'I think it's too late for _before_ ,' said Ironside in a sombre tone. 'And as for looking, what do you think the whole department has been doing for the past thirty hours?'

He should have been angry, but that had been overcome, along with his fear. There was nothing he wanted more than the rip the whole city apart, but he knew they would never find them.

'And you think he's still alive?'

'McArthur didn't kill them all,' said Ironside, nodding. 'My guess would be that he's had enough practice to know when to stop.'

Mark flinched at the thought.

'What are we going to do, Chief?' he asked.

'There's nothing else we can do now, but continue with the plan. We have to play along, or let him think we are playing along, it's our only hope of finding Ed.'

Mark shook his head, but didn't voice his disagreement. They sat in silence until Eve reappeared about ten minutes later, still looking very pale.

Ironside glanced at the clock. There were only a few hours left to go before they had to leave for the drop.

'We'll leave in soon,' he said. 'You should try and get some sleep. All of you.'

Carl nodded, and stood up, heading for the door with a decided droop about his walk. Mark looked at Ironside for a moment, then nodded, heading towards his own room to try and doze.

Eve sat at his side in silence, and didn't move.

'Eve, you have to try and get some rest,' he said gently.

'That's what Scott told me. But how can I sleep, knowing…' she petered out, looking at him with glazed eyes. He took her hand.

'You have to try. Tomorrow we're only going to have one shot at getting him back alive.'

At the words, she pursed her lips, struggling not to cry.

'He's out there, alone,' she said in a shaking whisper. 'God knows what they're doing to him. And we are supposed to sleep, knowing that?'

Ironside nodded. With a stifled sob, Eve stood up, walking towards the den, and Ironside watched her leave, feeling as low as he had ever been.

The hours passed fast and slow both at once. He would have given anything to be in action right now, and anything to never have tomorrow come at all. Ironside hoped they would all sleep, and regain some of their edge for tomorrow.

But he also knew that he couldn't sleep, though he was more tired than he'd been in a long, long time. He knew that he needed to sleep, to prepare himself mentally for what was coming next, but he couldn't rest. In just a few hours he would have to play the final hand in this deadly game, however it was destined to end.

It _was_ a game, though he hadn't realised it at first. This was something that Anthony Richards had thought out and carefully planned, right up until this point. Every move he'd made was just another step towards the final showdown, and no matter how he twisted and turned he couldn't get himself, or his team, out of this.

Ironside closed his eyes for a moment as he thought of his three staff members Ed, and Mark and Eve. They were his team, his _friends_ … and they were in this just as deeply as he himself, his plan would put them all in danger. For the first time, the panic and fear that he'd been wilfully ignoring for the past thirty-six hours rose inside him and just for a minute he let himself worry.

As a man who lived off his instinct, he felt he had managed to get most things wrong this time around, and the one thing that had gone right was more down to Mark's speed than his own actions. Most likely, Ed was paying in blood for Ironside's lack of foresight. A chill raced down his spine as he thought about the forensic photographs and what Ed must be going through right at that moment.

But still the questions remained. What if he was wrong? What if he had misjudged what was going on? Now he was backed into a corner, he had no choice but to see it to the bitter finale.

The Commissioner was adamant; Mark was adamant too that this "playing into the criminal's hands" act was a profoundly bad idea. He had to do what Tony told him, he had to make sure Tony believed, even if that meant making Ed believe it too, no matter how much that hurt him. Even if that meant looking Ed in the eye and calling him a betrayer. Because there would be no second chances, and no guarantees. If Tony thought for one moment that Ironside knew what was really going on, that would be the end. He'd kill Ed without a second thought.

The Chief drew a slow breath. He had to be right. And he had to be sure. He'd never called it wrong before, but did he really know what he was doing this time? If he was wrong, Ed, Mark and Eve were all going to be in terrible danger.

At last, he glanced up at the clock, surprised and relieved to see that the hours had vanished into the night.

He'd let them sleep for as long as he dared. It was time for them all to act.

* * *

The van was parked beside a phone booth. Next to it, the Chief was waiting as the fog rolled over the city, covering it like a shroud.

Despite having had next to no sleep for two days, Ironside felt as bright and alert as he had ever been, the sense of desperate anticipation counteracting the fatigue. Everything was set. Ironside did as Richards' had instructed, and he'd made sure everyone else had done the same. Now was the moment all this had been building up to. In the next few hours he would have to work harder than he had ever worked before in his life. Lives depended on him: Ed's, Mark's, Eve's and not least his own.

And Anthony Richards was not going to make it easy.

It was four o'clock in the morning: Fifty hours since he's last had a proper sleep, thirty-eight hours since he'd last seen Ed as he walked out of the office into a sunny Californian morning, thirty-four hours since this nightmare had begun, eighteen hours since Eve had almost been killed in that fire, ten hours since he's talked to the Commissioner, two hours since he'd sat and given in to fear for a moment, alone in his office. And most importantly, it was five hours _before_ the State versus McDonald was due to start.

At two minutes past four, the phone rang. The Chief picked it up, his hand as steady as always.

'Ironside.'

'Hello, Robert.'

He'd thought about this moment. He'd thought about it from every angle, how was he going to react, how much was he going to give away. He could have pretended that he didn't expect Tony R, but that was foolish; they had been at the warehouse, after all. There was nothing to be gained from acting surprised.

'Hello, Tony,' he said. 'It's been a long time.'

'I wish I could say it was good to hear your voice again, Chief Ironside,' said Richards, sounding smug. 'But it isn't.'

'The sentiment is reciprocated, I can assure you,' replied the Chief.

'I don't doubt it. Did you do as I told you? Are you alone?'

'Just me, and my team,' he replied. 'You have my word.'

'Team?' the sarcasm was evident in Tony's voice. 'Your team of _one_?'

'My team,' growled Ironside. 'Now let's get on with it.'

'Fine! Do you have my money?'

'Do you still have my evidence?'

'I have your Sergeant Brown, isn't that what you really mean?'

'I'm hardly going to pay two million dollars of taxpayers' money for a disgraced sergeant!' snapped Ironside.

Richards gave a buoyant laugh, and the Chief suddenly wondered if Ed could hear this conversation as well. It made no difference if he did, there was nothing else Ironside could say under the circumstances, but the thought of punishing Ed more than necessary hurt deeply.

'I want to speak to him,' said Ironside.

There was a brief moment of silence.

'Ch-Chief? Don't…'

It was Ed, Ironside was sure, but he sounded terrible. There would be time later to find out what Ed had endured over the past few hours. Speculating on that now was counterproductive. He was still alive and that was all that mattered at the moment.

'Ed?'

There was no reply, just another short pause. Ironside thought he could hear some noises in the background, but he couldn't identify what they were.

'Does that satisfy you?' said Richards. 'He's here, and the drugs are right beside me. So can we get on to the real business at hand?'

A cold thrill of anger passed through Ironside at Richards' indifferent attitude, but he made sure his voice was steady and business-like when he spoke. He wasn't going to be baited into an emotional outburst.

'Nothing would please me more than to get this over and done with,' Ironside said.

'Good,' replied Richards. 'Listen carefully, Chief Ironside. First thing you'll do is rip out your radio and your car phone, and dump them on the pavement beside you.'

'Mark, pull the radio and the phone.'

From the van, Mark frowned at Ironside, but he did it anyway. There was a crack of plastic and wrenched wires then the whole bundle hit the ground with a smack.

'That's very good. Now, you and your little black _samba_ are going for a drive around town. I know your van is easily recognised, but if I see a single car that even looks like it's tailing you, this whole building will go up, drugs, people and all. Do you understand?'

Ironside almost smiled at the end tag.

'I _understand_ ,' he said grimly.

'Good. Get to the corner of Haight and Ashbury, then turn next left. There's a phone booth there. I'll call you in fifteen minutes.'

The phone clicked.

Ironside paused for a moment then slammed the handset back on to the cradle, unable to vent his fury in a more productive way.

'Mark, we're going!' he snapped.

'Hashbury, I heard,' said Mark, pushing the Chief round to the open van doorway. 'Did you speak to Ed?'

Ironside nodded, tight-lipped. Mark waited for him to elaborate as he climbed into the driver's seat. But Ironside could find nothing to say.

'We're on a countdown here, Mr Sanger!' snapped Ironside when Mark made no move to start the engine. 'Do what you're paid for and drive!'

Mark turned back to the wheel.

'You better hope this works, Chief.'

'Just drive!'

It took them just ten minutes to get to the phone box. The street was quiet, only a few people were moving about. Ironside and Mark waited by the booth. Five minutes passed, then ten, and Ironside was rolled nervously back and forth between it and the van, not looking at Mark.

Then suddenly the phone rang. Ironside resisted the impulse to pick it up at first ring.

'Did you have a pleasant wait?' said Richards his snide tone abundantly clear, even down the impersonal medium of the telephone.

'I'm here, amn't I,' said Ironside. 'If you want your money, you'll get on with it.'

'The Dock, Pier 212, twenty minutes.'

The phone clicked again.

Ironside glanced at his watch. They were going to have trouble making that one, even this early in the morning.

'Mark!'

'We're already gone!'

True to his word, Richards bounced them back and forward across San Francisco, four more times until finally, they ended up at the down-market end of one of the quieter marinas on the Bay.

Sitting in his chair back near a phone booth, Ironside still waited for the telephone to ring. The fog was thicker down here and the Chief had difficultly making out the edges of the buildings.

This was the sixth one they'd done, and he was aware time was running out. This _had_ to be the last one, or maybe just one more. After that, they were going to lose any chance of making it to the trial in time. That surely wasn't what Richards wanted, not if he wanted the money as well as revenge. And Ironside had gambled everything that he would want _both._

The phone rang, and Ironside picked it up.

'Ironside.'

'Good. It's time to meet in person.'

'Where?'

'Right here.'

'The marina?'

'One of the outbuildings. But first take your gun out and toss it into the water.'

Ironside pulled his revolver out from his pocket and, holding it by the barrel, threw it into the Bay with a soft plop.

'Alright,' he said. 'The gun's gone.'

'Get the money and start moving. But leave your driver where he is. Warn him that if he makes a move to the phone the whole place goes up, evidence, you, Brown. everything.'

Mark, who must have overheard, gave him an _I-told-you-so_ look and folded his arms across his chest.

'How will I find you?' Ironside asked.

'Follow your instincts,' said Richards sharply, and the phone went dead.

It was the first time that Ironside sensed that Richards was as nervous as he was.

The Chief looked at Mark and nodded. The other man lifted the large, bulky case of money onto Ironside's lap, trying to get it to balance properly.

'You understand what you have to do, Mark?' he asked. Sanger nodded.

'But I don't like it, Chief.'

'None of us like it, Mark. But it's the only way.'

He wheeled himself off into the fog, and Mark called out behind him.

'Hey, man, good luck.'

Ironside kept on going, conscious of the time and aware that they had taken longer than he'd expected. Maybe that was a sign that this was going to go wrong. But he couldn't see any other way. Richards would never make this a clean exchange, even if he _was_ going to deal with him. Tony R held almost all the cards. Ironside had no option by to appear to play the game for as long as he could, and hope it was long enough to get Ed out, preferably with the drugs and the money as well.

He wasn't going to play it any other way.

The Commissioner had been incredulous, and furious as well, but Ironside would not be shaken. He was sure that Richards would destroy everything he could if he thought that his orders were not being followed. Ironside was absolutely convinced of that fact. Though the police department could be out in force, a plainclothes man at every phone box in the city, it wasn't worth the risk. Ironside wouldn't allow it, not with Ed's life at stake, and the small matter of the McDonald case as well.

For the moment, they were on their own.

* * *

Mark stood, his hands in his pockets, and watched as the Chief rolled his chair out into the mist and vanished. The door of the van was open on the driver's side, and Mark lean on it, looking out the way Ironside had gone.

He desperately wanted to do something. He wanted to phone in for the back-up that was waiting close by, ready to move when they got the word. He wanted action, activity… _anything_. But instead he stayed where he was told, and it was the most difficult few minutes of his life.

There was a click by his ear.

Mark didn't react. He didn't react at all as the gun was pushed against the back of his neck, and the man frisked him, checking for the gun that wasn't there.

'Let's get going,' said a voice with a heavy, Texan accent.

Mark shuddered at the voice, resisting the violent urge to take the man out with one single swing. Instead, he did as he was told and took a step forward, the way Ironside had gone.

'No,' said the man. 'Turn left. And get your hands up.'

For the first time, a frown crossed Marks' face. What if Ironside had been wrong about all of this?

He drew a deep breath. Ironside never called it wrong. It was his turn now, to trust that the Chief was right, and the Chief knew what he was doing.

With a final, nervous glance backwards, Mark laced his fingers behind his head and started to walk, leaving the van and the phone behind.

* * *


	11. The Game of Life and Death

The Game of Life and Death

The marina was almost silent but for the sound of gently lapping water. Fog hung thickly in the air, cutting down Ironside's view of the surrounding area and making it impossible to guess what, if anything, was lying in wait ahead.

There was no chance of sneaking up on Tony R; the heavy, metal wheelchair creaked and crunched its way over the wooden boards, and with the case full of money as well, his progress was frustratingly slow.

He peered through the gloom of the early morning, drawing a slow breath and trying to decide what his next move should be.

_Instinct_ , Tony R had said. _Follow your instinct_.

His instinct was telling him that Richards was waiting somewhere for him in one of the ramshackle buildings close by. They would be perfect for his purposes, easy to get in to, and easy to rig up to burn.

Of course it was a trap, baited with his friend and the stolen evidence, Tony R would be certain that Ironside would obey every single word. The Chief was under no illusions about what was planned and what he was risking.

Ahead was a line of old wooden buildings, each one with a double door. Richards was likely to be in one of those. Rolling over to them, he checked each one of the outbuilding doors; the second to last one was unlocked, and very slightly ajar.

The light inside was flickering, as if it came from an oil lamp. His instinct was telling him that this was the place, so he opened the door with a loud creak, and pushed himself inside. Though he had anticipated many things, that didn't stop the shock and horror at what was awaiting him.

The first thing he saw was the still figure of Ed Brown at the further end of the room, his arms tied to one of the many high beams across the ceiling. And Ironside could smell blood. There was no one else around that he could see, but the building had piles of crates and boxes along the sides.

The Chief wheeled himself closer, avoiding stray crates and loose wood, his anxiety growing with every moment.

Ed was immobilised, his feet were barely touching the ground. The Chief could see the smear of dried blood over Ed's face, and the glint of handcuffs around his wrists and across the beam. The right side of his half-open shirt was soaked red and clung to his body.

Ironside tried to speed up, but it was difficult to manoeuvre the wheelchair across the uneven floor of the outbuilding. Ed hadn't reacted to the noise of the chair at first, only when it grew much closer did he try to move. He let out a weak sigh, and lifted his head, wincing as he did so. Ironside could see other streaks of fresh blood on his shirt, round his collar and on the sleeves as well, and felt sick. The pictures he'd seen hadn't prepared him for the reality of what McArthur was capable of.

Angry and revolted, Ironside eventually reached a table close to where Ed was tied. On it were Eve's open purse, her things lying beside it, and a radio. Beside those was a shiny handcuff key, just sitting there, waiting to be picked up and used.

And Ironside _did_ pick it up and stare at it, rubbing it between his fingers and thumb, turning it so it glinted in the light.

But he couldn't use it to free Ed. That was the whole point, wasn't it? Ironside couldn't reach, not stuck in his wheelchair. He couldn't get Ed down and Anthony Richards knew it. Holding that key, there and then, was a bad as lying in that hospital bed, unable to move or do anything for himself. The bitterness, anger and resentment rose up, clouding his judgement, but just for a moment. Then he breathed out slowly, pushing his feelings back down inside, and focusing on what was around him, and what was important.

He looked up to Ed, with his expression as calm as he could make it.

The two men looked at each other for a few moments. Ed seemed resigned, perhaps numbed was a better word. He must have had plenty of time to see what Richards was planning, and he hadn't come up with any way out.

Ed's glance fell to the purse on the table, and his expression changed, the anguish of the loss he was feeling showing on his face. He thought she was dead, and Ironside didn't disillusion him. Instead, he looked away, his face still blank, knowing that his action would only cause Ed more distress.

'Frustrating, isn't it,' said a voice beside them. 'Not being able to help.'

Ironside didn't even bother to turn to look at the man. He didn't need to. He knew Tony's voice.

'Leave the money on the ground and move back,' said Richards.

Ironside put the large case of money on the ground by the table and rolled back a couple of feet, hunching forward in his chair.

Richards stepped out from behind a stack of crates. He was older than Ironside remembered, and heavier. The face might have had more lines, but it was still as emotionless as it had been all those years ago when he had last seen it.

'I knew you would come,' Tony said.

'I'm glad I didn't disappoint you.'

Tony R looked down at Ironside and his wheelchair, and a curved sneer spread over his face.

'When I heard that you'd been shot,' he said, 'I was almost disappointed that I wouldn't be able to pay you back for what you did to me. But when I heard that you were a cripple, well… the plan made itself. How much more satisfying to ensure that you to felt the frustration and the rage, knowing that you could have helped him, if only you could stand up and walk!'

Ironside was so angry that he could barely form the words of a sentence. It didn't help that Richards was exactly right. Frustration and rage were building inside him in a way he had never experience before. He had often longed to walk again, to run and to move like he used to. No one who had not been through it could ever understand just how it felt to lose the use of their legs. And Ironside had never felt their loss so acutely before, now his nose was being rubbed in the fact.

But instead of reacting, Ironside watched as Tony R walked round the table, pulling the case of money towards him. He couldn't give in to the emotional pressure, not with Ed's life in the balance.

'Where is the heroin?' he said, his tone business-like and unconcerned.

Richards walked backwards, not taking his eyes off Ironside, to beside a small case that the Chief hadn't noticed when he'd come in. Richards patted it then stepped aside.

'Here it is. Come and take a look.'

Ironside moved closer, as Richards stepped back once again, keeping well out of Ironside's way. The Chief looked inside. The box was full of small bags, of the right type to be from Property, and there seemed to be the right volume.

'You could be double crossing me,' said Ironside. 'That could be nothing but baking soda.'

'Do you want to smoke some?' said Richards. 'Just to check? We could have a private party.'

'No.'

'Fine. Take it.'

Ironside frowned at him, sensing something was wrong.

'This is your chance,' Tony said. 'I have the money. You can take the drugs and leave.'

'And that's that?' snarled Ironside.

'And that's that, as you say.'

Richards was lying, or course he was. After going to so much trouble, Tony wasn't just going to let him _leave_. And he had to know there was no way in Hell that he would leave Ed. But Richards also wasn't going to miss the opportunity to infuriate and insult Ironside in any way he could.

The Chief looked up to Ed, then back to Richards. He didn't move.

'You know, I thought you would do that,' said Richards. He pulled out a gun from his pocket and Ed visibly flinched. 'Maybe I should make the decision easier for you?'

In a few steps, Tony had taken the case with the money and moved back from Ironside. He pointed the gun at Ed, standing a few feet away.

'Are you really going to shoot him?' said Ironside. 'As I remember, you don't do your own dirty work, Tony.'

An ugly look crossed Richards' face.

'So you _do_ remember what happened to Tom,' said Tony. 'Tom's death was your fault.'

'Tom's death was your _fault_ ,' said Ironside firmly. 'You ordered the hit.'

'I had no choice,' hissed Richards. 'I had to. I had to be sure he didn't talk.'

Scowling, Ironside gave a snort.

'Well, if you had wanted a clean _execution_ , you should have used a better gunman!'

The gun in Richards' hand moved again, it was now inches away from Ed's side.

It occurred to Ironside what a terrible game he was playing; he was gambling with Ed's life, not his own. But other than the guilt, there was a small sense of satisfaction. He'd been right all along about Richards. Tony wanted Ironside to suffer like he had done, experience the loss of his family and friends, just like he had done.

And that was going to be his undoing. If he had any sense at all, he would have killed Ed, and Ironside himself, and got out of there. Ironside's plan was going to work.

'Just _shooting_ him like that isn't your style, Tony,' he said coldly.

Richards gave an almost greedy smile.

'Really? How well you _think_ you know me, Chief Ironside,' he said. 'But you've already lost one of your team, and you are about to lose another.'

He cocked the gun. The sudden spike of panic Ironside felt at the sound was eased by the sound of footsteps.

The Chief glanced round in the direction of the noise.

Mark walked in through the other entrance, arms relaxed by his side, and a thick-set, angry-looking man just behind him with a gun. Ironside recognised him from Eve's description and the file from Texas. This was Lonnie McArthur, the man who'd made Ed's life a living hell for the past few hours.

'Hey, Chief,' said Mark apologetically. Richards didn't even give him a second look he was too concerned with watching Ironside, but Ed twisted against the handcuffs, his face screwed up in pain.

As a crestfallen, desperate expression crossed Ironside features, Richards laughed.

'Outmanoeuvred again, Chief. You have no idea how easy it was to run you round in circles for the past forty-eight hours.'

'Get on your knees,' said Lonnie to Mark. 'Now!'

Mark didn't move; he was staring straight at the Chief.

'Your associate?' asked Ironside, jerking his head towards Lonnie. 'I didn't think you liked associates anymore. Not after what happened last time.'

Richards narrowed his eyes.

'I trust Lonnie,' he said. 'He has more to gain by sticking with me. And he can't be _persuaded_ to turn states evidence, not after what he's done.'

'Done? Just what _has_ he done?'

Richards looked at Ed and smirked. An image flashed into Ironside's mind of the gruesome pictures he'd seen of Lonnie's handiwork. He saw a look of despair pass over Ed's face, and he shuddered.

'Lonnie's a well-known face down in Texas,' Richards said. 'And they're not going to do him any deals, that's a guarantee!'

Ironside dragged his gaze away from Ed, down to the floor and the thick streaks of blood on the wooden boards. The Chief forced himself to look back at Richards.

'What about Johnston? You did a deal with him, didn't you? Twice?'

Richards smirked again.

'I knew you would make Johnston eventually. He was always going to be the weakest part of this.'

'Is that why you killed him?'

'Yes.'

'So you kill people who trust you?' asked Ironside. 'Interesting.' He looked up at Lonnie, who glared back at him. 'Don't you find that interesting?'

'No,' said Lonnie with a sneer. 'Mr Richards knows I wouldn't turn on him.'

Ironside glanced up at Richards and shrugged in apparent disbelief.

'You talking like that ain't gonna save your little slave-boy,' said Lonnie. 'I said get one your _knees_!'

Lonnie slammed his foot against the back of Mark's leg and he staggered to the ground.

Richards gave a wide smile, the glee on his face unmistakable. He walked round to behind Ironside, taking his time to look between the three men he had at his mercy.

Ironside just waited, knowing that he had to string this painful charade out for as long as possible, to give the others enough time to get here.

'Are you not going to gloat?' he asked Richards, tilting his head back so he could see the other man clearly. 'After all the trouble you've taken?'

Richards leaned down, resting his arms on the handles of Ironside's wheelchair, close enough to speak into his ear.

'Gloat? I have something much better than gloating.'

'Is that so?'

'You see, I know how to hurt you, Robert,' said Richards. 'With your friends here as well, it's almost too _easy_! First of all you are going to see how it should have been done to Tom. Quick, clean, instantaneous.'

'And then?' Ironside asked.

Slowly, Tony R walked round Ironside's chair, swinging the hand with the gun. He moved round to behind Ed.

'Then,' said Richards, 'I'm going to shoot your friend here and let him bleed to death while you watch, knowing there's nothing you can do to help.'

Richards poked Ed's right side with the gun and Ed gave a muffled moan trying ineffectually to pull away. Ironside could see the blood on Ed's shirt was still bright and wet. He and Richards stared eye to eye, neither blinking nor looking away. Ironside's face was rigid with the effort it took not to react.

'There's nothing you can do to stop me,' said Richards. 'You've played all your cards, you've none left.'

Richards smiled.

Lonnie's gun was just inches away from the back of Mark's head, and Sanger looked up at Ironside, his gaze as steady as always. The Chief could see that he was calm, and trusted that Ironside knew what he was doing.

Then there was the retort of a shot.

But even before the sound had echoed away, Lonnie very slowly toppled to one side, blood pouring from his slack mouth. He hit the floor with a dull thump.

A moment's confusion was all Mark needed. He was standing in a second, kicking the gun from Lonnie's limp hand, sending it over the floor safely out of reach, across to the wall just beyond Ed. Then he took a leap towards Richards, intent on disarming him as efficiently as possible.

Richards fired one shot, aimed wildly, not at Mark or Ed, but at Ironside himself. The bullet ricocheted off the wheelchair's handle with a ping.

Mark sprang forward, quick as a panther, catching Richards' arm and forcing it upwards with one hand, grabbing the other arm at the same time. Another bullet thudded into the roof and Mark's forward momentum brought Richards crashing to the floor. They rolled out of Ironside's sight, but the sounds of a fight continued.

A moment later, Eve stepped out of the shadows behind where Lonnie had been standing. She was shaking, but ran forward towards the Chief. As she reached him, she stumbled slightly, and didn't stop him from taking the gun from her unresisting hand.

'C-Carl's on his way now,' she stuttered, her gaze fixed on the body on the floor, so shocked at herself, she could barely focus on what was around her.

He gripped her hand, dragging her attention away from Lonnie. Like this, in such shock, she was an easy target for Richards.

'I need you to go,' he said. 'Show Carl and the others where we are. You're the only one who can. Get them here as fast as possible.'

Eve took a sudden glance to Ed, who was looking at her with an expression close to joy.

'But Ed. How…?'

'Get backup here, as fast as you can.' Eve didn't move, just stared in horror at Ed. 'Go! That's an order, Officer Whitfield!'

Finally, the tone of his voice made her move, and Eve half stumbled as she turned, casting a desperate look at the Chief and then Ed. But she ran back out, trusting that he knew what he was doing.

Ironside drew a sharp breath. Carl must have been close, but he probably wasn't close enough. He had to buy them some more time, as much as he could.

'Richards!' called Ironside. The Chief could hear the continuing fight between Mark and Tony R, but there were too many boxes and crates in the way to see properly, let alone get a clear shot. ' _Richards_!'

There was still no answer. Anxious, Ironside looked around, back toward Ed.

Even if Mark managed to subdue Richards, they were still vulnerable. He didn't want to lose any of them, but with Ed still held fast, their options were limited.

Mark couldn't help free him he had his hands full at the moment. Eve couldn't have helped either, as she was a good foot too short to get to those flamin' cuffs, and she would be an easy a target for Richards. And he himself couldn't reach, Richards had made sure of that.

But Ironside could still get Ed free.

He aimed the gun at the beam and the silver glint of the handcuff chain. It wasn't an easy shot, not a this angle, with Ed's hands so close to the target area, and with so much at stake. And he only had five bullets.

He let off four shots in succession. The fourth shot clipped the chain, breaking it, and Ed Brown fell heavily to the ground, free from the beam.

A moment later there was a pained grunt that sounded like it came from Mark, and then a sudden burst of gunfire. Ironside leaned back, shielding his eyes as the table just in front of him splintered.

There was a second of silence, then Mark rolled into sight, making for the cover of another set of crates at the other side of the room, away from Ironside and Ed. Two bullets followed him, but both missed.

Ironside held his gun up, aiming at where the bullets had come from, knowing he only had a single shot left. He could no longer see either Mark or Ed, but he guessed they must both be close.

'Come out, Richards. It's over,' he called. 'Give yourself up.'

'I hardly think so,' Tony called back. 'And you can hardly expect me to just give in!'

'It's over,' repeated Ironside. 'Throw down your gun and come out.'

There was another shot, and it went wide, cracking open a nearby crate. But suddenly there was the sound of gushing liquid, and the smell of gasoline filled the air. Richards had set this whole place to go up in flames, just as he'd told Ironside. There was the chink of glass, and Ironside frowned. Richards had broken something.

'Even if you shoot me, this place is still going up,' cried Tony. 'Even if you get everyone outside, you'll still lose the drugs and the money. There's no way you can get it all, Ironside. You're still going to lose _something_ I promise you!'

A bottle flew out from behind the crate, just as Ironside fired his last shot. It smashed against Ironside's wheelchair, spraying the liquid over his legs, and the thick smell of gasoline rose up around him.

'Can you get to me before it all goes up?' called Richards. 'Maybe if you could run, you might be able to make it!'

The silence that followed was broken by the soft scrape of flint on metal, and the Chief saw a flicker of flame just ahead.

And in that second, Ironside thought he'd lost.

* * *


	12. Heads I Win, Tails You Lose

Heads I Win, Tails You Lose

Pain echoed through Ed's body. His hands were almost numb, and the fresh cuts on his body grated and burned with every movement. He wanted to curl up and pass out somewhere, and never have to do anything again.

 _The gun_ , his mind insisted. _Get to the gun_. _You've got to get that gun._

He felt more detached from the situation than he had before. There was too much else going on, he could hardly believe what he was seeing: after everything he'd done, Ironside had still come to help him. And Eve was still alive, and Mark was fighting Richards.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Ed pushed away the waves of sickness that the slightest sound or motion caused. Lonnie had certainly known his job; Ed could only be thankful that Lonnie had been content to cause as much physical pain as possible with the knife rather than real damage, or he would never have been able to move at all.

Ed shuddered at the thought, the memory of the past few hours branded on his mind so deeply that he feared he'd never be free of it. He'd been completely at the mercy of men to whom the concept was meaningless. For a moment, the sensations were all too real; the quiet, indifferent voice of Richards, the smell of his own blood, and the feeling of the sharp-edge knife as it sliced in a smooth line through his skin and into the muscle underneath. Then there had been the look of utter fascination on the other man's face as he'd twisted the blade to open the wound to let the blood pour out. And then Lonnie had done it again. And again. And _again_. Ed had thought the pain would never end…

The sound of gunfire brought Ed's attention back to the present with a jolt.

 _Get to the gun!_ _Get to the gun!_

Lonnie's gun. He had seen it skittering across the floor as Mark had leaped to take on Richards. That was what he should be focusing on. It was lying close by, just beside the far wall, only a few feet away from where he was. He heard Richards talking, bragging, challenging Ironside, and Ed forced himself to move closer. But a few feet had never been so far away.

His body felt as if it belonged to someone else and was worked on strings and he had never felt so weak and light-headed before. His wrists were beginning to get some feeling back, but rather than helping, it was only more painful to move.

Everything ran at half normal speed, and his progress was agonisingly slow. He could hear what was going on and he knew time was running out. Ironside needed him.

Again, the single thought made Ed shudder and he lurched to a halt, gasping for breath. In all his desperate praying, he had never imaging that anyone would _actually_ come and find him. He was certain that he'd gone too far over the line for that, and the Chief would never forgive him. That he had misjudged the Chief filled him with more shame and sorrow. But this was his chance to get _something_ right, even if it killed him.

Dragging himself forward as best he could, he crawled over to the crates, and the gun. He reached out to the weapon, knowing that he still had a duty to help, no matter what condition he was in. The feel of the handle was like satin and as slippery as oil, or ice. He gripped it as tightly as he could, afraid that if he let it go he wouldn't have the strength to pick it up again.

Lonnie's gun was a long-barrelled Colt, and felt impossibly heavy when he heaved it up off the ground. So Ed braced his arm on a crate, using both hands to try and keep the weapon steady. It took all his concentration to aim it at Richards. The scene in front of him still pitched and swayed, but fortunately the figure of Richards moved in synchronisation. There was no room for error. He was only going to have one chance. That was all he had left.

Richards was shouting something at the Chief. Then there was the strong, unmistakable stink of gasoline, making the nausea even worse. Now Ed was kneeling upright, the blood rushed from his head, making everything fuzzy around the edges, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the loss of so much blood took its toll and he passed out.

Ed could take the shot now, and get it over with while he was still able to see the target, before he collapsed. And who would blame him for shooting the man down where he stood? But there was always a slim chance the Chief would talk him out of it. The gun wobbled very slightly, but Ed didn't pull the trigger. He just stayed as still as he could, holding his breath and forcing himself to wait.

A bottle smashed over the base of Ironside's wheelchair. The sudden, harsh crash of breaking glass made Ed flinch in pain, and the gun wobbled once more.

'Can you shoot me before it all goes up?' called Richards. Ed could see him flick the lighter once and a steady flame appeared at the top.

Everything else cleared away from his mind. All Ed could see was the small tongue of fire flickering in the darkness. Richards hand moved slightly forward, no more than an inch, towards the spilled gasoline. He was going to set the whole place on fire, and Ironside with it.

For one tiny fraction of a second, Ed doubted what he was going to do. That was the man who had kidnapped him, blackmailed him, and smiled as he'd been tortured.

But revenge was the last thing on his mind as Richards' lighter tilted down.

Ed fired.

* * *

The flat sound of a shot made Ironside start, but it wasn't the sound so much as the direction.

Richards slumped down, the fire at his fingertips dying out as he fell. As he did, Mark moved forward as fast as he could. He stooped down, pulling the lighter from Richards' limp hand. Only then did he feel for a pulse.

Ironside looked away, already sure Richards was dead, and turned round to where the shot had come from.

Ed Brown was leaning against the wall, the gun gripped tightly in both hands and steadied by the edge of a crate. For a few seconds, he stayed like that, then his eyes closed and the gun slipped from his fingers, hitting the ground with a sharp crack. Ed slumped down, lying on the ground like a broken toy, unconscious.

Ironside stared at him in amazement.

'Richards is dead, Chief,' called Mark. 'It's over.'

Precisely on cue, there was a thudding noise from outside, and a few seconds later Carl Reese, gun drawn, appeared breathlessly through the door with five or six armed officers following him, and Eve just behind them.

'Chief!' shouted Reese. 'Chief!'

'Here, Carl,' said Ironside.

Reese and his men ran up, and Carl looked from the Chief, to Ed, to Richards and Mark, and back to Ironside.

'You're just in time,' said Ironside, a touch too coldly.

'Sorry Chief, we did the best we could. Trailing you from that distance wasn't easy.'

Ironside nodded, falling silent and watching as the other officers took over the scene. Eve cast a troubled glance at the Chief and Carl, but hurried over to Ed, kneeling down beside him and running her hand over his face. Ed didn't react.

Mark left Richards on the ground and joined her.

'Help me get him up,' said one of the officers.

Mark slipped his arm under Ed's shoulder and gently pulled him standing, Ed swayed, barely aware of what was happening, but supported by Mark, he didn't fall.

'Ambulance crew is on its way,' said an officer.

'Let's just get him out of here,' Mark replied.

Ironside watched in silence as they helped Ed slowly out of the building, with Eve following very close behind. Once they had gone, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief that, by some miracle, they were all still alive.

Only then did the Chief looked back to Reese.

'I see you got Eve's call then?' Ironside said.

Reese smiled.

'You sure play a close game,' Carl said. 'You had me worried for a few minutes. I would have give you good odds that they would have found her in the van.'

'Why should they?' Ironside asked. 'Richards knew I wouldn't take such an absurd risk with anyone but my own staff. They didn't even bother searching it.'

'So that's why you didn't want them to know she was ok.'

Ironside nodded.

'She was my final ace, Carl,' he said with a sigh. 'My last chance. Without her we would all be dead.'

Carl looked down to Lonnie's body, then back to the Chief.

'I think she might have played her last hand,' he said.

The thought had crossed Ironside's mind too. It had gone further than he'd though it would, though he'd always been aware of the possibility it would end in gunfire. It was a calculated risk. That had been the only flaw in his plan, and there had been no way to avoid it. Eve had been forced into killing Lonnie, just as Ed had been forced into shooting Richards. That they had been doing their jobs and protected others wasn't going to make the facts any easier to live with, especially not for Eve.

'And Richards really did a number on Ed,' said Carl. 'You think he'll be ok?'

'I hope so,' replied the Chief.

'What a mess,' muttered Carl.

Ironside nodded. It was indeed a mess, but it had almost been a lot messier. Instead of getting safely out with his people, the money and the missing evidence, the whole lot had almost gone up in flames, but for a sergeant who just didn't know when to quit.

With a sigh, he looked down at his watch. It was just after eight in the morning. Ironside reached over and handed the Property box to Carl.

'You had better get this to the courthouse, Carl,' he said. 'The clock is still ticking on the McDonald case.'

'Sure thing, Chief,' Reese replied, tucking it under his arm. 'You going to have a bath?'

What Ironside wanted to do most was go after his staff to see how they were, and to be with them at the hospital. But he knew they were in good hands, and there would be nothing he could do for them just yet. _And_ he still had his job to do.

'No, Carl, I have to return the money to the Commissioner. Can't leave millions of dollars sitting around the marina, can I? Dennis would have my badge.'

Carl looked at him, his eyebrows raised.

'And then?' he asked.

Ironside scowled at the pointlessness of the question. Carl knew perfectly well where he desperately wanted to be.

'Maybe I'll have a quick _bath,_ ' he said with as much irony as he could. For the first time in many hours, Reese smiled

'I would at least change your clothes before going to the hospital,' he said turning away. 'You're a fire hazard!'

* * *

It had taken the Chief many hours longer than he'd thought to get free of the bureaucrats and get down to the hospital.

Mark was waiting for him in the foyer, and took him straight up to Ed's room, where the sergeant was lying peacefully, his eyes closed. There were cuts and bruises over his face, and a thick white bandage round his temple. Now he'd been cleaned up from all the blood, Ironside thought his injuries looked even worse, so clear against his ashen skin. He was on a drip, and Ironside's attention was drawn to the neat white bandages that covered the cuts his arms and shoulders. Under the thin sheet there would be many more. Ironside shuddered.

Eve was sitting by the bed, anxiously twisting the jewellery on her finger, her face drawn and her eyes puffy from crying. She barely looked up as he entered.

'Ed's already been in surgery,' Mark told the Chief. 'That's all we've been told. They're waiting for the results of some tests.'

'I see.'

Then Mark gave Ironside a strange, pointed look, and glanced towards Eve.

'I'll be outside if you need me, Chief,' he said.

Once Mark had gone, Ironside rolled his chair over to beside Eve, and she shifted her seat slightly to let him get closer. Together they sat, next to Ed. Eve reached out to put her hand on Ironside's arm. She was trembling.

After another fifteen minutes, the door opened and the doctor came in, the same one who had tended Eve earlier. He gave Ironside a thin disapproving smile, then looked at Eve.

'You, young lady, should be in a hospital bed yourself. It was irresponsible of you to discharge yourself so quickly.'

Eve looked up to the man, her face was blank but her eyes fixed on him with a cold stare.

'I know,' she said. 'But I had a job to do. A very important job.'

The doctor looked at Ironside.

'I suppose I have you to blame for Miss Whitfield's sudden absence from hospital, Chief?'

'It was my own decision, Doctor Smith,' said Eve frostily.

The doctor looked between them, but said nothing more.

'But what about Sergeant Brown?' asked Ironside. 'Do you have the test results? Will he be ok?'

The doctor flicked open his file and gave a worried frown.

'All things considered, he's fortunate to be with us. Trauma to the abdomen, back, upper torso, arms, the wrists, the face, all of which are consistent with a sustained knife attack and a beating. But we're sure there's no internal bleeding, which was what we were worried about. The tests came back clean and his blood pressure has stabilised. But he also has a very nasty concussion and he's lost a significant amount of blood.'

Eve's hand was still on Ironside's arm and, as the doctor spoke, her grip grew tighter and tighter.

'Frankly,' said the doctor, shutting his file with a snap, 'he's lucky to still be standing after all of that.'

'I know,' said Ironside quietly.

'Well, the good news is that he'll get better, Chief Ironside,' the doctor said. 'We've patched him up, the cuts are cleaned and stitched, and he's on morphine for the moment. The concussion is the worst injury, and that will heal itself with time. Physically, he'll be back fit for duty in a few of weeks. Four or five at most, assuming…'

The doctor stopped abruptly.

'Assuming _what_?' growled Ironside.

'I don't know what exactly happened to him, but it's not going to be easy to recover from an attack like that and still do his job, Chief Ironside.'

On his arm, Eve's hand suddenly dropped away.

Ironside wanted to argue, to tell the doctor that he didn't know Ed Brown at all, and he shouldn't make snap judgements. But he didn't say anything. The sheer brutality of what Richards had done was going to be very difficult for anyone to live with.

'If he wakes, you can speak to him, Chief, just not for too long. The concussion is severe and he needs as much rest as he can get.'

'Thank you, Doctor Smith.'

After the doctor left, Eve let out a long, shaky sigh.

'Oh, Chief, I've been so worried,' she said.

'It's not your fault, Eve,' he said. 'If anyone's responsible for this whole mess, it's me.'

'But if I hadn't been there, if he hadn't hit his head, or if he hadn't been trying to protect me, maybe he would have been ok.'

Ironside took her hand, and pressed it tightly between his own.

'There are too many _ifs_ ,' he said. 'Maybe if you hadn't been there, he would have been dead. Mark would have been. So would I.'

Eve looked away.

'So why is it _your_ fault, then, Chief?' she asked after a moment.

'You're both my responsibility,' he said.

At the words, Ed turned in restless sleep, his eyelids flickering. He drew a deeper breath and shifted his shoulders.

'Ed?' said Eve eagerly.

Slowly, Ed opened his eyes. He looked at Eve, and gave a tiny, tired but heartfelt smile.

'Hey,' he whispered.

'Hey yourself,' she said. She reached out to take his hand in hers, not seeing him wince. But Ed didn't try to move it away.

'How do you feel?' she asked.

'Terrible.' His speech was very slow and over-pronounced, which was probably the effect of the painkillers he'd been given. He looked sluggishly up to Ironside, an expression of deep regret and distress on his face. 'Chief, I'm… I'm so sorry.'

Ironside accepted Ed's apology with a nod. How like him to apologise. But the Chief knew that was exactly what he needed to do; Ed had made some tough decisions, and borne a terrible responsibility. He'd put up a front of deceit and lies to save Eve and he had hated every single moment of it.

'I know, Ed,' he said softly. 'But I _also_ know you had no choice. You did what was _right_ , regardless of the cost. And you have no need to apologise for that.'

Ed's face twisted.

'Right?' he said. 'D-don't you want an explanation?'

'We have Lonnie McArthur's file, Ed,' the Chief told him. 'And Eve's statement. That is all the explanation we need.'

Ed closed his eyes for a moment, and an expression of relief crossed his face. Ironside imagined what it must have been like to be trapped into cooperating and incriminating himself only to be tortured anyway. If it had been the other way round, if he had had to betray his friends to save Eve, he would have had just as much self-loathing as Ed had at that moment.

'Don't understand,' Ed murmured, looking from Ironside to Eve and back again. 'Must've missed something. Lonnie? You know?'

Ironside felt the shudder run through Eve at the name.

'There'll be time for a full report later, when you're better,' Ironside said. 'But you've come through this mess with full marks, Sergeant.'

'Full marks?' Ed replied, looking even more confused. 'For theft? Conspiracy? Extortion?'

'For doing the right thing, Ed,' said Ironside. 'For saving Eve from a fate worse than death and most likely death itself. For being a good cop.'

'Well,' Ed replied, with an ironic half-laugh, 'don't feel much like a good cop any more.'

Eve shifted forward.

'I think you are,' she whispered.

Ed looked at Eve and smiled, and Ironside smiled too, pleased to see the warmth returning to his sergeant's face. Ironside could remember seeing the crushed, guilt-laden look Ed had given him when he though Eve was still dead. It had been absolutely necessary, but it had been a terrible thing to do to someone in such a weakened position.

'Thought you were dead,' Ed told her.

'Now it's my turn to be sorry, Ed,' said Ironside. 'But I had to keep you in the dark, as well as Richards.'

'I underst… know.' The brief shudder that went through Ed at the word was barely noticeable.

'And as for the charges of conspiracy, theft, forgery…' Ironside saw the shame reappear on Ed's face. 'I have the Commissioner's assurance that they have all been dropped.'

'Enquiry?'

'We have all the evidence we need. Murray from Internal Affairs is satisfied. The Commissioner is satisfied. I'm satisfied. That's the end of it.'

'Chief?'

'That _is_ the end of it, as far as the Department's concerned.'

Ironside had feared he would have to pull a lot of strings to sort this case out as quickly and as quietly as he could, but the Commissioner had been most cooperative after the return of the money and the drugs and with all Ironside's staff still alive. Once Ironside had told him and Murray all the facts, he'd closed the case there and then.

'Don't know what to say,' Ed murmured. He looked at the Chief with an unfathomable expression. 'Never thought you'd come to help me.'

Ironside felt he should have been surprised, or maybe even insulted, by that statement. But he wasn't. He looked at Ed with a calm, level gaze. He'd known, the moment he had come close enough to look Ed in the face, that he never expected to be rescued.

'You underestimated me, Sergeant Brown,' Ironside said with a smile.

'Never…' Ed stopped with a shudder, swallowing the rest of the sentence. 'Don't know what to say.'

'You shouldn't say anything,' said Ironside. 'You should rest.'

Ed nodded, but he didn't close his eyes. Instead, he pushed himself up slightly.

'They both dead?' he asked.

'Yes.'

'Oh.' Ed looked away from the Chief, over towards the window and the wide sweeping view of the city. Beside him, Eve looked round at Ironside, her face lined with tears.

'Listen, Ed,' said the Chief. 'I'm not going to tell you it's all right. You _did_ make the correct decision, but that doesn't mean it is the easy one. You killed him, Ed, but you didn't do it for revenge.'

There was silence for almost a minute, Ironside never took his eyes of his sergeant's face, seeing the turmoil of emotions he himself was feeling mirrored there.

'I know,' Ed replied eventually. 'I've killed before. But not like this. Maybe…'

'Maybe this, maybe that,' interrupted Ironside. 'Maybe anything. But you're a policeman, Ed, and a damn good one too. You've proved it today.'

There was a pause, then a small grin grew on Ed's lips as he looked round at his boss.

'Worth paying two million for?' he asked.

Ironside shook his head firmly, noting the look of confusion on Ed's face.

'No. You're worth paying a damn sight more.'

Ed gave a tired laugh. He looked much more weary and drawn than he had, even just a few minutes before.

'Thanks,' Ed murmured.

'I have your badge and your gun waiting for you,' Ironside said. 'As soon as you're out.'

Ed nodded very slightly, the effort of moving seeming to make him all the more tired.

'Thank you, Chief,' he said again. 'Thank you for everything.'

Ironside nodded. The other man was looking exhausted, and finding it hard to keep his eyes open.

'But there is one thing, Sergeant Brown,' Ironside said sternly.

'Wh-?'

'You _ever_ swear at me like that again, you'll be busted back down to Patrolman so fast you'll get windburn. Do I make myself clear?'

'Sure,' Ed mumbled.

'Good. Now you can get some rest. That's an order.'

Ed looked at Eve, his eyelids drooping as sleep took hold. Very slowly he let go of her hand.

'Guessed,' he murmured. 'Say congratulations later.'

Then his eyes closed completely.

Ironside looked at Eve, who was blushing red around the top of her cheeks.

'We should go outside and let him sleep,' said Ironside.

With a nod, Eve rose and opened the door to let Ironside roll himself out. Together they walked down the short corridor to the waiting area nearby.

Eve sat down on one of the far away chairs, looking to the floor. There was something in the way she positioned herself that made him uncomfortable, that and the way she wouldn't look at him.

'What is it, Eve?' he asked, gently.

'Chief?'

'You have something to say.'

'Chief, please don't make this any more difficult than it already is.'

She was twisting her jewellery as she spoke. When she looked up at him, her eyes were full of tears.

'You can say anything to me, Eve. You know that.'

Eve nodded nervously. She took a few moments to compose herself before she started to speak.

'Scott was here. He stayed with me while Ed was in surgery. And we had a long, long talk, and I told him everything.'

Ironside waited patiently, but he knew what she was going to say. He'd always been afraid that this would happen. This was the end.

'A few weeks ago, Scott asked me to marry him. I said yes.' Eve took a short, anxious breath, but didn't say anything more. She looked down to her hand, and the sparkling ring that she hadn't been wearing earlier. 'I haven't worn the ring before today. I was going to tell you all before, but somehow, I kept putting it off. A secret engagement seemed more romantic and…' She stopped.

'And…?' The Chief leaned forward, drawing as close to her as he could while in that flamin' chair.

'I wasn't sure, before. I thought I might stay. And now…'

'And now…?' repeated the Chief.

'And now,' said Eve, 'I've decided. I'm not going to be working for the Police Department afterwards.'

'Eve…' started Ironside.

'I know what you're going to say,' she said quickly. 'I've been through this all before. But I've done my job and I've seen this case all the way through to the end. But I can't do it any more. You once told me the price you pay for your badge gets higher every year. This year, it's been too high.'

Ironside watched as tears rolled down her cheeks, an immense feeling of loss in his heart.

'It's not just because of Richards,' she told him. 'Or Lonnie. Pressure makes a good cop, or breaks a bad one, isn't that what you've always said?'

'You _are_ a good cop, Eve,' he said.

'But there's only so much pressure a good cop can take before they break too, Chief.' She looked earnestly at him. 'This might not have been enough to break Ed, or you. But it was enough to break me.'

'Eve…'

'I've been on your staff for four years. I've known you and Ed much longer than that. But I _love_ Scott, the way I once loved you.'

That was the first time either of them had said it. And it was likely to be the last, as well.

'I can't put Scott through that sort of horror. I won't. It isn't fair on either of us.'

'Eve…'

'No, Robert!' she said, rising and turned to face him for the first time in the whole conversation. 'No. Not this time. There is no sudden cure, there is nothing you can say. You can't talk me out of this.'

'I'm not going to try,' he said.

Eve looked almost surprised for a moment then a soft smile lit up her face.

'You can make your own decisions, Eve,' Ironside said. 'You always have. And whatever your decisions _is_ , you have my blessing, and full support.'

'Robert,' she said. 'Thank you.'

She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.

They looked at each other for a long moment, neither with anything more they could say. Then Eve turned and walked off down the corridor. Ironside watched her leave, the way her skirt swished as she walked, the rise of her step, the tilt of her shoulders.

There were many things he regretted in his life, though he had always tried not to look back, only forwards.

He would never be able to walk. And he would never be able to replace her.

* * *

Epilogue

Ed Brown walked slowly down the steps of Ironside's office with his hands in his pockets and his head high, looking even more smart than usual in his full tuxedo. He stopped by the desk, and perched himself comfortably on the edge, giving the Chief a cheerful grin.

'I take it you have some news?' Ironside said, looking up from the paperwork on the desk.

'Jury's back in record time,' he said. 'And McDonald has gone down for twenty-five to life.'

Ironside looked up at the happy, relaxed face of his friend, and smiled back. The bruising had gone after the first week, and there was only the faintest of scars on his lip, but nothing that had damaged his natural good looks.

Underneath, that was a different matter. Ironside knew that his sergeant slept badly now, and he knew that there was still a long way to go.

'So it's a good day for a celebration?' asked Ed.

'It's a good day for a wedding,' said Ironside.

'Mark's downstairs with the van. Everything's set.'

'And you have the present?

'Yes, we have the present. Chief, it's all taken care of. So all _you_ have to do is relax and enjoy yourself.'

Ironside nodded. It was all taken care of. With a sigh, he thought once again about the events of a few months ago, wondering if he had made the correct choices, wondering if this could have had a different ending.

Richards had won, in a sense. He'd succeeded in damaging his team and taking something very precious away. But the rest of his team survived, and were the stronger for it. He looked up to the man leaning on the table, feeling a paternal pride that he would never say. Ed returned his gaze.

'We'd better get going now, we wouldn't want to be late,' Ed remarked. 'We can't let Eve down, can we?'

Ironside noted the choice of words with an inward smile.

'Then let's go, Ed! We can't be late for her wedding.'

* * *

The End.

* * *

Sequel - Aftermath - The Chief and his staff are forced to confront the full impact of a previous case when they investigate an explosion at the recently opened Kingston Building. (Post "The Gambling Game, S5 Ep4)


End file.
